MY STORY

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE JACKSON FAMILY

Left to right Aunt Frances Tom Shipside

Aunt Mary Jane Bill Shipside Aunt Kate

The Nottingham based well known and very lucrative Shipside garage business was started with Jackson family money. Well that is the rumour. The facts I think were that when Granddad Jackson ⁽¹⁾ died the compensation money amounted to about £100. Granddad had cut himself when replacing a glass window at work. The wound turned septic, then gangrenous. In the days before penicillin death from septicaemias were common. The eldest daughter of this bereaved family was my Aunt Mary-Jane who was married to Tom Shipside. My paternal grandmother was not very good with money and Tom Shipside undertook to look after her. He himself was very good with money. He told my father that “your mother will never want for anything, I will look after her”. And in fairness to him he appears to have done that. My paternal grandma died in Yew Tree House, Oxton, where Tom Shipside and Mary-Jane lived at the time. It was a beautiful house and still was so when I visited it years later at a time when the Divisional Veterinary Officer for Nottinghamshire, Bill McIlroy, was tenant. The house being owned by the Sherbrooke family, Lords of the Manor of Oxton. The founder of the Sherbrooke family was the Liberal Prime Minister W E Gladstone’s Chancellor of the Exchequer in modern times Capt Sherbrooke VC RN sunk the WW2 German battleship the Bismarck. Sherbrooke was promoted to Admiral subsequently.

A younger daughter of the Watnall Jacksons was my aunt Elsie Green ⁽²⁾ who had married Alf Green. The Greens were always envious of the money made by Tom Shipside in the motor business. Tom Shipside was a friend very early on of Lord Nuffield and through Nuffield he had secured a lucrative agency for Morris cars. Jackson money may have started him off but that is all that it did. After that the success of the business was in Tom Shipside’s own hands. My Father’s only criticism of Tom Shipside was that he did not take very good care of the two youngest Jackson boys, his brothers Harry and Frank. I do not think either Harry or Frank served an apprenticeship. Harry did quite well afterwards running a garage business from the Old Home in Watnall. He must have learned the motor trade somewhere, perhaps at Shipsides.

Frank was less lucky. Frank was always moody which is ratter a Jackson trait. He married my mother’s sister, Sarah Martin. My parents did not approve of Sarah’s marriage to Frank for they knew of Frank’s mood swings. Moodiness is rather a Jackson trait. Frank and Sarah did not have children of their own but took care of Albert Martin ⁽³⁾ a nephew of Sarah’s. Albert had had lost his mother. Sadly Sarah died of cancer and for a time afterwards Frank lodged at Aunt Florrie’s in Henrietta Street, Bulwell. Whilst there he did some very fine work on the marketry of a long case clock. Albert pointed the clock out to me and I was very impressed with the work. Aunt Sarah was a very nice lady. In later life Frank drove cars for Shipsides but, some time after Sarah died, he had a very nasty accident. I think it was in Lincoln. A lady pushing a pram came out from behind a vehicle and Frank ran into them killing baby and mother.

My father attended the court case and later arranged for legal representation. Frank a very humane man, was overcome by remorse and at one point the Chairman of the Bench said “This man is not doing himself justice”. I do not know what happened after that but Frank disappeared and was next seen running a window cleaning business, transporting the ladder by bicycle. He married and had two sons, Frank and William. In the 1920’s Tom Shipside had purchased an estate near to Mansfield called Fountain Dale. It was large and had apart from the main house there were several lodges and in the grounds no less than three lakes. One day when I was manning the boats at a Fountain Dale garden party. I saw someone aboard a boat who had not paid so I rowed over. It was Uncle Frank, new wife and baby. It was the return of the prodigal and I was very happy to take him over to meet my father. Sadly Frank died and shortly afterwards Frank’s wife also died. Frank’s two sons, Frank and William both married. Frank married Vyvyan and William married Lorna. Frank did well but unfortunately died fairly young, aged about 60.

Tom Shipside was very religious. He was also promiscuous. This must be an unusual combination. A very devout Methodist and Liberal he fell foul of the Lord of the Manor (Admiral Sherbrooke see above) when he put up a Liberal poster in Oxton Forge of which he was then a tenant. “Shipside, you will take down that poster or leave the forge!” said the Lord of the Manor. To his credit Tom Shipside left the forge. He attended “Chapel” as Methodists call church regularly and when in the congregation was fond of calling out “Hallelujah” and “Amen” at intervals. He wrote a book with the aid of a ghost writer “I lived in a village”. It makes good reading in the earlier chapters but then goes off into a long list of local Methodists of whom he appears to have an encyclopaedic knowledge. He writes about what their day job was and where they preached. These words are not being written by a ghost writer!

As to the promiscuity aspect which perhaps is the more interesting, he had various lady friends and sadly some were fertile. It fell to my aunt Mary-Jane to go and see these girls and make some sort of arrangement. She said many of the women were very nice persons. “Why don’t you leave him?” my father asked. “He’s not getting rid of me as cheaply as that.” She replied. They later left Fountain Dale which she loved and moved to Oxton Manor. Tom Shipside had a great desire to die as resident of the Manor, having been born in the forge. Fountain Dale as a large estate with several lodges and three lakes, on one of which there were two rowing boats fetched only £7,000. I hope I am wrong about this for it was worth far far more.

There is a Robin Hood legend associated with Fountain Dale. At one point Friar Tuck agrees to carry Robin Hood across a moat to an island (i.e. act as psychopomp to the Otherworld) on the understanding that Robin will return the favour on the return journey. However, Robin dumps Friar Tuck in the water half-way back. A fight ensues, and Robin Hood starts to get the better of Friar Tuck who blows his horn which summons fifty hounds. Robin Hood blows his own horn, in response to which fifty bowmen appear and shoot the dogs. In the introduction to the tale, Friar Tuck is introduced as Master of the Hounds. In one of the lodges at Fountain Dale Sir Walter Scott stayed. It was there he wrote almost the whole of Ivanhoe.

Although he was far from perfect I have a sneaking regard for Uncle Tom Shipside. He had not always been the rich tycoon he afterwards became. Once he had to get measured for a suit. He went to the tailors in his pyjamas. They were all he had to wear. He said to my father, “Some people think I am made of money”. After a pause for reflection, he added “And it is perhaps as well they do think so.”

Mary-Jane bore him three children, two daughters and a son. The elder daughter was called Frances and like her mother, became a Justice of the Peace. Tom was never a JP. I suspect his reputation went before him. His son was called William and my father was very fond of him as he was of my father. I called all the Shipside children Aunts and Uncle because they were so much older than me. But of course they were first cousins. Frances was very much against drink, that is to say alcoholic drink. So was my father and I suspect that was because his father, my grandfather used to come home very much the worse for drink and next day would have a bad head and not go to work. Kate Shipside the younger daughter married Harold Adams. They had no children was always very nice to me as were indeed all the Shipside family. The Shipside’s son, Thomas William Shipside was always known as Bill. He was my hero. He had joined the Royal Flying Corps during the First World War. He was not allowed to go to France because he was very young and his parents had to give their permission. After the war he continued to fly and sold aircraft and was part owner of Tollerton Aerodrome afterwards that became East Midlands Airport.

Bill Shipside was a wonderful cricketer and snooker player. He taught his own two children to fly. He had a landing strip near to Holly Lodge his house. He used to fly regularly to le Touquet and once did a trip to the Holy Land. Coming back he flew over protected air space in Libya and the Italians wheeled out an ancient Anti Aircraft gun and fired at him. “What’s that white stuff over there?” asked his wife. “Oh its only low cloud” said Bill. It was of course shrapnel!

Quick witted on that occasion he was not always so. I remember him telling me the story of how he saw my uncle Thomas Tunstall Jackson ⁽⁴⁾ at Fountain Dale. I suspect Uncle Tom was given lodgings there by his sister Aunt Mary-Jane on the understanding he would do odd jobs. Tom was a very good worker and especially in wood work. Once he was asked to re-roof a huge building at a quarry in Crich a place in Derbyshire. It was a very tall building. “How long shall we have to stop work Mr Jackson, whilst you replace the roof”? “You needn’t close down at all unless you want to” came the reply. My Father said Tom could have done it too. The roof would have been sectioned off and built at ground level. During erection all tools would be tied to Tom’s wrist so there was no risk of injury. In fact they did close the works down whilst Tom put on the roof.

Back to Bill Shipside’s story, Tom was sitting down at Fountain Dale stirring a pot of paint. Uncle Tom had been stirring the pot of paint for a very long time. “How long will you have to stir that paint, Uncle Tom”? Bill asked. “Until the sun goes in” Tom said. Years later when Bill told me this story he slapped his leg and said “I’ve just realised what he meant!” My cousin Bill was a very likeable man. It was generous of him to tell a story against himself.

Sadly Bill Shipside crashed an aeroplane he was piloting a few years later. The accident happened somewhere in the French Alps. Icing of the wings was the problem. After the crash Bill was OK but Aunt Lily; Lily Bacon his wife was badly hurt. She died later; I am not sure how much her final illness was due to the crash. I do not know whether he resumed flying after the crash. Bill died in his mid-sixties having married again. His second wife was Doris, known as Dosh.

Bill rather fancied himself as an engineer. In fact he was probably very good at it. He either built or adapted an MG sports car as a racing vehicle. It was painted in the British car racing colour of green and had a white painted circle on each door on which was painted the race number. His son, Kenneth raced it very successfully. Kenneth won a particular cup twice and I asked what would happen if he won it a third time; would he be allowed to keep it? “He gets a replica” came the answer (he pronounced it replyka).The car was called “Little John” and afterwards was sent out to Australia where Peter, the youngest son, had a garage business. Kenneth and his sister Margaret, had been taught to fly. Both were quite competitive. Margaret and I once carried out a contest to decide who could row fastest. There were two dinghies on the lake at Fountain Dale, both rather similar. We raced and Margaret, a slip of a girl, won. So we switched boats because I could not believe I had been beaten. After the switch Margaret won again!

Frances took a great interest in Oxton Chapel ⁽⁵⁾ where she was the organist and a tireless worker. She had married Levi Hopkin who was the son of James Hopkin. James Hopkin lived at Oxton Mill. Oxton Mill blew down one stormy night and a man called Jarvis Gibson was in it at the time and suffered from some sort of nervous complaint ever after. Frances was very much against strong drink speaking against it many times when on the Magistrates’ Bench. I asked Bill about his own attitude. I knew he was not teetotal and at one time had kept a keg of cider at Fountain Dale, a secret kept from his parents. “I drink when I am thirsty” was his non-committal reply. But I do not think he drank alcoholic drinks very much.

Levi Hopkin was responsible for introducing films into the work of Oxton Chapel. Methodists at the time regarded the cinema as the work of the devil but a number of leading Methodists including J Arthur Rank, the Millionaire Lord Rank, saw it differently and used film in the Methodist Church to good effect. Rank formed the Film studio which bore his name as a consequence. After Tom Shipside died the Shipside firm was bought by the Rank organisation and Bill Shipside became a retired tycoon. Aunt Kate (Mrs Harold Adams) worked at Shipsides as did her husband. They never had any family. Both Frances and Kate had splendid houses in Oxton with super gardens. The whole of the Shipside family ran garden parties, usually in aid of the Methodist Church. I used to enjoy these garden parties especially the teas.

Levi died and then Frances. Her final days were unhappy as she had dementia very badly. It was sad for such a good person to end up thus. After she died Oxton Chapel became a private house. I do not know the circumstances. Perhaps the congregation fell off; perhaps the problem was financial for I suspect Frances and Levi made substantial contributions.

Bill had three children, Kenneth who went to Nottingham High School the school to which I had failed to get a scholarship. He was in the motor trade for a while and then became an estate agent. Margaret married a local farmer, Tom Shepherd and had two children. Her son, Peter Andrew Shepherd, became a veterinary surgeon and is now in small animal practice in the Wirral. He has never been in touch with me for some unknown reason. That is a pity for the veterinary profession is very small and I know a lot of people having met them during my long veterinary career. I can well understand if Peter wanted to make his own way unaided by family contacts. He went to Cambridge and appears to have done well. I never see his name in the veterinary literature though. Margaret split from Tom Shepherd and went to live on an island in the Mediterranean. She became a very good artist I believe but we lost touch. I have never been in touch with another son of Bill Shipside, Peter who lives in Australia.

Frances and Levi’s daughter Kathleen married John Crow. She is now widowed still lives in Oxton. She is a very well known artist and has had several exhibitions in London. Two of them at least were the Mall gallery. That is the London Mall!

Another sister of my father was Aunt Alice Cunningham (Auntie Jack). She had been a cook in service and had married Jim Cunningham who when they married was a builder’s labourer and a Roman Catholic. Uncle Jim joined the Royal Engineers as a private. The army was destined to be the major part of his life and that of Aunt Alice. He was made a corporal after he pulled someone out of a canal. My father said “you were made a corporal because you pulled that chap out of the canal.” Uncle Jim’s answer was revealing, “No,” he said “I was made corporal because somebody saw me do it”.

I think Uncle Jim joined the army in 1911 and between then and about 1930 studied to pass the army’s educational requirements with a view to getting a commission. My father said to him, “They will never make you an officer, Jim.” Jim said, “They will if I am worth it” The day came, in 1930 when the then Sergeant Cunningham was instructed to ring someone at the War Office. “Sergeant Cunningham here,” he said. The answer came, “Sorry we do not know of any Sergeant Cunningham, perhaps you mean Lieutenant Cunningham?”

In later years Uncle Jim became very fat. Dad asked him what he would do if the scaffolding the army put up was too weak to bear his weight. “I’d make them strengthen it” he said. My parents visited the Cunningham’s when they were at Bulford Camp in Wiltshire. Aunt Alice asked the way to somewhere and was told the route lay over the Wallops. Aunt Alice had an earthy sense of humour. “I am not going over the Wallops tonight,” she said.

The Cunningham’s were stationed all over the world. Aunt Alice had herself converted to Roman Catholicism and had three children, Mary, William and Francis. I asked Uncle Jim once what the worst posting he had had was. He replied “Sierra Leone”. In 1939 he was stationed in Egypt where his main job was building camps and especially looking after the water supplies. Alice went with Mary and Frances to South Africa where they lived in Durban. Bill was by this time at Cotton College where Francis afterwards joined him. Mary had also been away at school, a school near Matlock but I don’t know the name.

Times were unsettled after the war for the Cunningham’s and Aunt Alice had to move around a lot. She lived in one of the lodges at Fountain Dale for a while, courtesy of her sister Aunt Mary-Jane.

Jim retired as a Lieutenant-colonel and bought a house in Watnall from Stanley Jackson, Uncle George Jackson’s son. Jim was a splendid gardener, grafting fruit trees with ease. He had qualified as a quantity surveyor and worked for a time for a Nottingham firm.

His son Bill was commissioned and during the war was in the Reconnaissance Corps being the first British soldier to cross the Rhine. He was also in the Marines. He had done very well at Sandhurst and I think got the sword of honour. He retired as Major and became a NAAFI (Navy, Army and Air force Institutes) manager. NAAFI managers were not encouraged to use their army titles. During his army career he had been mentioned in despatches (MID) for an idea he had of throwing packets of frozen peas out of aircraft to supply troops on the ground. I used to tease him about that! He told me once, shortly before he died at the Watnall house, “You never get over the fact that you have killed another human being”. I was touched by that for army people never tell you if they have killed anyone.

Bill married Pat, an army nurse (Queen Alexandra’s) out in Kenya and they had two children. Their son, Ian, became a solicitor and has done very well to become a senior prosecutor on the Crown Prosecution Service. Ian is also a member of the Territorial Army (TA) and the TA gave him a guard of honour when he married. Sadly I was not able to get to the wedding. His sister, Ann, married a doctor from Hucknall but that marriage failed and she now lives in Buckinghamshire working in PR and evidently doing well. Ann is a very personable girl. Her widowed mother Pat recently joined her going to live in an adjacent property. Pat sold the Watnall house and the site appears to now be occupied by at least four houses. Pat never liked Watnall but it was somewhere to live in view of the army “tied cottage” life the Cunninghams led for many years.

I remembered my late wife asking Pat Cunningham once “You don’t really want to live here do you?” with a rising inflection at the last two words. Of course Pat didn’t but they had to live somewhere.

I met Bill and Pat many times for instance when he was stationed at Bielfeld in Germany. Bill liked Germany and spoke fluent Germanged. He enjoyed caravanning on the continent but not in the UK. I took him to dine at Lincoln’s Inn and he took me as a guest to the officers’ mess at Feltham. I spent the night there and in the morning found a note inside my car from the army police telling me to keep it locked in future. He also took me to Sandhurst. Bill and I looked rather alike in features. I was driving and he handed me his army pass which bore his photograph. “Here Bill,” he said, “You can have the salute this time. We will see if Johnny Ghurkha is awake” The Ghurkha sentry was awake and said to me sternly, “You are not Major Cunningham” I replied that Major Cunningham was sitting beside me and the right man got the salute in the end.

Bill annoyed Anthea my late wife when they first met “Are you Bill’s popsy?” he asked in his rough soldierly manner. The first time we met after the war he asked me what I did and I told him I was a veterinary surgeon. “H’mm” he said, “not much use for veterinary surgeons in the army.” In fact he was quite wrong about that but I told him I had never had any thoughts about joining the army. Bill’s life was the army so he saw it differently.

Frances was also in the army but had a chequered career especially after he pranged the car of a senior officer out in Malaya. Frances endeared me when aged perhaps 25 years he drove down to our house in Worcester with his mother, then a widow. It was in the days before windscreen washers. Frances had evolved his own solution to the cleaning of windscreens whilst on the more. Stopping for lunch on the way Frances laid his water pistol on the table and asked the waitress if she would be good enough to fill it.

Mary never married. She became a schoolteacher and a commissioner in the Girl Guides.

This is the Jackson Coat of Arms. I do not believe it!

⁽¹⁾ See chapter 1 page 18 reference Granddad Jackson

⁽²⁾ See chapter 2 page 19 reference the Greens

⁽³⁾ See chapter 3 page 13 for reference to Albert Martin

⁽⁴⁾ See chapter 2 page 19 reference Thomas Tunstall Jackson

⁽⁵⁾ See chapter 2 page 13 reference Frances Hopkin and Oxton Chapel

MY STORY

CHAPTER ELEVEN

RETIREMENT FROM MAFF

When I finally retired the staff presented me with a spoof set of instructions which I still have. In the Civil Service nobody is ever allowed to do anything unless they have attended the appropriate course. I had attended a retirement course in Reading which was largely useless. There were parties given to me by ESCC and by my colleagues in Lewes. As my retirement also heralded the end of 50 years during which MAFF had had an office in Lewes a more general party was held at Southover Grange, the former home of John Evelyn. Present at this were all the four living ex-DVO’s plus many Sussex veterinary surgeons. It was a very pleasant occasion.

Margaret Thatcher was no friend of the civil service and ensured many vets retired earlier than what had been the normal age for us (65). I hated to retire but she did me an unintended favour

On retirement from MAFF I did my pupillage at the bar. I had earlier done the practical exercises by travelling up to the Inns of Court School of Law. So I was ready to join chambers as a pupil barrister. In fact I was working for MAFF one day and the next I was in Lewes Crown Court with barrister Simon Coltart, known as Colonel Tart. I little knew that I had joined prestigious chambers. I had written to both sets of chambers in Brighton. One was Marshall Hall’s chambers in Old Steine. They did not reply. But I got a nice letter from Anthony Niblett of Crown Office Row. They had an annexe in Brighton. At the interview I told Anthony that I wanted to do a mini pupillage lasting two weeks. That was allowed by the General Council of the Bar. He agreed and after that ended I was granted a full pupillage of six months but told there would not be a “second six” with them. That was fair enough for they wanted young men.

Barrister Bill

Anthony Niblett, now His Honour Mr. Justice Niblett, became my pupil master. He was not available when I first joined chambers and handed me over to Simon Coltart. In Lewes Crown Court Simon was defending a policeman, one of two charged with stealing pornographic videos. The videos had been seized by the police as evidence in another case. All evidence is carefully recorded and these two were caught out. The trial lasted a week. There were several barristers involved. All were disappointed when they never saw the videos screened.

1 Crown Office Row, Temple

I was at the Brighton Annexe

I was at the Brighton Annexe for six months and was involved in many cases most of which I do not remember. All barristers will tell you the same thing, during a case the facts are crystal sharp in one’s mind but once a case is finished you can never remember much about it. Even the names do not ring a bell. And of course much of the information is confidential between the lay client and his legal team. I wrote lay client because barristers actually work only for the solicitor who has briefed them. You speak to the lay client only in the presence of his solicitor.

It is a good rule in court never to speak to anyone who you don’t know. I got chatting to a nice young fellow one day. Seeing me in court Anthony came up and asked me to help him and it turned out the nice young chap was the defendant. I told Anthony immediately what had happened but as the conversation I had had with the defendant was unrelated to the case there was nothing to worry about. On this subject one of the first things my second pupil master said to me was that he did not want to see me talking to witnesses, ever.

When I was at Brighton we had a long case involving charges of incest. These are always unpleasant. Anthony was led in the Crown Court by Janet Smith QC who afterwards became Dame Janet Smith who headed the very long enquiry into the many murders committed by Dr Harold Shipman. I spent a few days in Janet’s company and found her very charming as well as being of course highly intelligent.

A case involving a postman who stole from the mail was rather amusing in a way in that the defendant was with three friends in an Indian restaurant. The three boasted to the restaurateur that they were detectives down to investigate a particularly nasty murder of a child on the Downs near Brighton. Also in the restaurant at the time was a real policeman. The Indian told him that the three chaps were also in the police and so the real policemen went over for a chat. It did not take him long to realise that the three were bogus so he suggested to the Indian that he check the credit card. And this is how the theft from the post came to light. “Stealing as a servant” means a fairly stiff sentence and the chap got 18 months which is the standard tariff. All crimes have a tariff. By that is meant the usual penalty for that type of crime. Counsel is required to advise on the chances of an appeal and draft notes on the grounds of appeal. Interviewed the postman said he was so comfortable at Ford Open Prison that he did not wish to appeal.

Anther case I remember was what is known as a three-hander. This is when three counsel are involved in the same case. There is counsel for each side and also sometimes an amicus curiae (friend of the court). He advises the judge in court an a point of fact or law on which the judge is doubtful or mistaken. We were in the high court before Mrs. Justice Jackson, a very formidable lady. As it happens all the counsel in the case were from the same chambers. That caused a problem at lunchtime as we wanted to eat together. We decided to take separate and different routes to the place we arranged to lunch.

We did no less than three contested divorces. There are not many of them these days. One was of a professor who took up with one of his students after many years of marriage. Then there was a professional golfer who I personally thought may have served his purpose after he fathered a child. The mother wanted a child but not a husband.

After a very happy six months at Crown Office Row I was fortunate to get a second six months at Verulam Buildings Grays Inn where my pupil master was an old friend, Jack Denbin a former farmer. He was tickled to death at having an ex DVO to boss about.

During the “second six” you have what is called “right of audience” in other words you can do your own cases as a pupil. The first day I was at Grays I was sent off to do a case somewhere in a magistrates’ court and I cannot now remember what it was about but I do remember having to read the brief in the tube on my way to court. Being at Grays meant I had to travel up to London every day but I soon got used to that.

I remember particularly an arbitration I argued did as a pupil. A taxi had backed into a car it was claimed. I think when such a collision has occurred it is very hard to show that it is the vehicle in front that was to blame. In almost all cases it is the car behind who has failed to stop in time. I got an admission from the taxi driver that he was looking for an address. I argued that what may have happened was that the taxi driver lost concentration through having to locate an address and not realising that meantime a car had drawn up behind him, backed the taxi without thinking. The arbitrator accepted this and found against the taxi driver.

After the case the applicant came up to me and said that the taxi driver had given him a kick up the arse. I asked if he had been badly hurt and as he had not I said it would be best to leave the matter alone even though an assault charge could have been brought.

Then there was what Jack referred to as his pig shit case. This was a long drawn out affair in Enfield. It was a question of did normal country smells such as those generated by a pig farm constitute a public nuisance. We had numerous sessions and I cannot now remember how the issue was decided. It is a question of degree how much smell is permissible. There were lots of arguments about whether the farmer was looking after the pigs properly. I longed to weigh in as I could see many ways in which he was not farming well but I was there as a barrister, not as a veterinary surgeon so had to hold my tongue.

The law courts in the strand (the High Court or the Royal Courts of Justice)

A case I did was with another member of the chambers at Grays. This was in the Court of Appeal case on a major planning dispute. It was reported in The Times but my name did not appear. Fellow members of chambers who did not think highly of the arguments advanced in the case said that that was not the sort of case with which one ought to wish to be associated.

I did an amusing case on my own in Bromley. This was two chaps who were accused with the offence of “interfering with motor cars” in the car park of a Health Centre. They had been seen by the police to be going round trying the handles of various cars. All went well at first as I established that the light was bad at the time making it hard for the police to see what the men were doing, if anything. That concluded my examination of my two defence witnesses and was the high point. Things went badly downhill after that.

Rising to cross examine the lady barrister merely asked what the men were doing in the car park and they said they were going to join the Health Centre. “And did you have money to do that?” The answer came that they did have money. Then the barrister asked for the custody record to be produced. Whenever an arrest has been made the custody officer carefully records into these the contents of the prisoners’ pockets. These showed they had no money and the case was lost. Afterwards then men came up to thank me which is in itself unusual. “You did a great job guv” they said “but we didn’t do it. We are not car thieves, we’re burglars!”

Most defendants are quite likeable especially if they are old lags. Such people never tell you that they didn’t do it as they are aware that barristers must never lie to the court. If they want to lie they must do that for themselves. They know this. In fact when a defendant confesses to a barrister the barrister must withdraw from the case and that means going to the judge to ask leave to withdraw. In fact it never happens, or rarely happens.

A defendant who was not likeable was a chap who had taken an axe and chopped off the foot of someone who was legitimately trying to re-possess his car. I spent a short time with him in the cells as occasionally I was obliged to do with prisoners. They lock you in and you get to work with your notebook. Once you have finished you ring a bell but sometimes it is not answered for a considerable time. I this spent a few minutes with the chap and I was not very happy about that.

As well as appearing in the Law courts on the Strand in the planning application case I did a case of fraud at the Old Bailey with another barrister from Grays. This concerned extended warranty insurance. As a result of that I never buy such insurance. The ludicrous sums backing some of these policies defies belief.

The Old Bailey

Towards the end of my six months at Grays I was with Jack at a case in Hastings. I saw a notice in the robbing room about chambers being started in Lewes. I replied to that and had an interview with John Collins. I was one of the four barrister tenants who started off Westgate Chambers. I had been incredibly lucky. I had been told that as I was aged over 60 I would never get a fist six month’ pupillage but I did. Then I was told OK but you will never get a second six, but it did and finally I became a full tenant and all of this was against the odds. But my conscience was clear. I never took work from someone who needed it more than I did. I lasted 14 years in Westgate Chambers before deafness finally took its toll.

.

I did many many cases when I was at Westgate. Mostly these were in the magistrates’ court and attracted only a basic fee of I think £35 with no travel allowance or subsistence allowance. Nobody gets fat on those sort of terms. I also appeared frequently in Lewes Crown Court. Often such appearances were on bail applications which usually failed. There was usually a letter from the gaoled prisoner and I always got the judge to read this and recorded on the brief that his lordship had done it. It never did any good but it was my job to do the best I could even if the case was hopeless.

A case I remember concerned a drunkard who had been involved in a petty theft of some sort connected with his addiction. I managed to get him seem by the probation office and someone appointed by the court to assist addicts. I forget the title of this official. It took all day and my unfortunate opponent spent all this time on what was expected to be a short hearing. But I felt good at getting this chap a chance to redeem himself. I should have known better. Many months later I saw him in Brighton magistrates’’ court once again on a drink related charge.

I was with a solicitor waiting outside the court for the defendant to turn up. Walking along the road towards us came a man who looked awful. He was dressed in tattered clothes and was dirty and unkempt and this was a man due to appear before the judge in a few minutes what sort of impression was he likely to make? I wondered. The solicitor merely said “Hullo, he’s smartened himself up!”

I did several opinions which I remember. One was for MAFF on the correct method to apply a statutory valuation. That was for the then CVO. Anther opinion I remember was for Reg Harmer a farmer friend with whom I played in the Eastbourne Orchestra. He was in dispute with a local auctioneer about the valuation of some land. I researched the law very carefully and wrote an opinion. Reg was not happy at my fee though. I had to tell him that fees were a mater for my clerk to negotiate with the instructing solicitor. Reg asked what would happen if the other side got a conflicting opinion from another barrister. I said that was possible but I thought unlikely for my opinion had been arrived at only after very through research.

I qualified as a Fellow of the Chartered Institute of Arbitration after passing an examination. I remember two arbitrations in particular. These are confidential but the first was to arbitrate between MAFF my former employers and the National Farmers Union. Both sides were represented by counsel who appeared before me as arbitrator. The MAFF counsel was brilliant on matters of law. The rule is that the award is never revealed until both parties have paid the fee arrived at under the approved scale. The reason being that one or other or even both parties may be disgruntled at the outcome and refuse to pay. MAFF finances work in a peculiar way and their fee was not paid. But I stuck to my guns and told my clerk, no fee, no award. They paid.

I did another big arbitration in Dublin concerning the harvesting of clams. Once again counsel was there representing each side and I had a super three days in Dublin before one side gave in. Pity for I was enjoying the Irish super hospitality. The case paid for a super trip to Canada.

I also joined the British Association of Agricultural Consultants and became a Fellow of that too. By now I had so many letters after my name that it was embarrassing and I never used them all only using the qualifications relevant to that particular work. I did a few consultations for them too relating to farm animals.

About this time the Registrar of the Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons who was a barrister member of Gray’s Inn invited me to dinner at the Inn. He was late. H e said he had better explain to me why he was after and said it was because the Legal department at the College was snowed under with work and they could not find a paper for him which he had to have. I said that I would be willing to help out if that was possible or desirable. In due course I became consultant to the RCVS legal department and still am I suppose for I have never been dismissed.

I used to go up to the RCVS two or three times a week. At first I was supplied with paper and pens and drafted letters for the Assistant Registrar Mrs. Di Sinclair to sign. The work in fact was not unlike mastering a legal brief winnowing out the salient points and replying to these. The cases were all ones that the RCVS had decided did not require further action beyond writing to the complainant.

I had problems with office accommodation and at various times occupied different places at the College, the Library, the President’s flat, the council chamber and finally a corner of Di Sinclair’s room. An assistant to Di had been appointed but he proved hopeless at drafting but a very nice fellow whom the College employed in other duties after that

We had all sorts of other problems. Hong Kong was taken over by the Chinese on 1^st July 1997. Veterinary surgeons working there who were Members of the Royal College remained subject to our disciplinary rules. That applies the M’s RCVS working anywhere but where local boards exist the local boards can deal with disciplinary matters. The trouble was that the Chinese had no local board yet for Hong Kong. That meant that we were the only authority able to act but think of the expense of moving everybody from Hong Kong to London or us to Hong Kong! My solution was to say we would handle such matters but only if the new Hong Kong government agreed to indemnify us as to costs. Di wrote along those lines and the matter was dropped.

Belgravia House. Horseferry Road

RCVS HQ

It became obvious through my work at the RCVS that many veterinary surgeons are hopeless at expert witness work. We attempted to give guidance on this through various RCVS publications such as the Guide to Professional Conduct which I helped revise but people do not often read such things I have long ago realised. With the aid of the RCVS some of us set up the Veterinary Association for Arbitration and Jurisprudence (VAAJ) and I remain current President.We have meetings twice a year and also run training courses from time to time. The high spot for me though was when I got Lord Woolf Master of the Rolls at the time, to give us a paper. Harry Woolf was a member of 1 Crown Office Row and I wrote to him on Chambers notepaper.

Experts owe a duty to the court and not to the person who is paying their fee. It is not up to counsel or solicitor to tell them this and some veterinary surgeons allow their evidence to become partisan. The problem is complex.

After moving to London I became a member of the congregation of Southwark Cathedral. I am much happier there than I was at St John’s Eastbourne where both the vicar Canon Geoffrey Daintree and the Bishop of Lewes the Right Reverend Wallace Parke Benn are evangelicals opposed to the appointment of homosexual clergy. In contrast The Very Reverent Colin Slee, Dean of Southwark will bless same sex liaisons. We have distinguished visitors from time to time at Southwark.

Southwark Cathedral 22^nd November 2006

The lady on the left is the Queen.

On her right is Bruce Two Dogs Bozum representing Mahomet Chieftain of the Mohegan Tribe

The Queen looks amused by the Indian on her right. He is Bruce Two Dogs Bozum representing Sachem Mahomet Weyonomon Chieftain of the Mohegan Tribe from Connecticut New England. Mahomet came to Britainin 1735 to present a petition George II about the illegal intrusion of setters into Mohegan Tribal Lands. He died in 1736 of smallpox before his case could be heard and is buried at Southwark Cathedral. As a foreigner he could not be buried in the City of London where he at that time resided. His body was conveyed by torchlight across London Bridge for a late night burial in an unmarked grave in Southwark Cathedral. The microphone in front of Mr Bozum him is a sign that finally the Indians have given up relying on smoke signals.

Sir Timothy West the famous actor and husband of Prunella Scales is a member of the congregation. He read the words of the petition at the ceremony.

Southwark Cathedral. The Very Reverend Colin Slee, Dean of Southwark on left.

Tony Blair at centre Prince Andrew on right.

MY STORY

CHAPTER TEN

LEWES – SOCIAL

I was posted to Lewes the county town of East Sussex on 18^th February 1977 as DVO. The girls had left home by this time so it was only a question of Anthea and me locating. I was in digs for a few weeks at Rodmell. We looked at several locations. Brighton was very tempting. Lewes was not possible because of the steep climbs up to the top of the High Street from the flood plain. It would not have been good for Anthea. I never thought of Eastbourne but Anthea had gone to the midwifery unit at Brighton General Hospital and was appalled. She got on a bus to Eastbourne where she found the director of midwifery to be charming and she settled for a job there and then. So Eastbourne it had to be. I found a very nice house on the sea front with a lovely terrace overlooking the sea. It is true it was not a bungalow but I liked it very much and so did Anthea once she had seen it.

Our house at Eastbourne

The one on the left of the three

The house we bought in Eastbourne was owned by a Mr Bennett who was chairman of London Transport and very fond of himself. He insisted his wife be known as Mrs Bennett. The actual sale was done using the solicitor for London Transport and Bennett made Anthea go up to London to sign the papers at London Transport’s office and kept her waiting a long time. She was not offered even a cup of tea whilst she was waiting. We were also kept on tenterhooks during the removal. The arrangements were we had to pick up the keys at Bracketts the Estate Agents in Eastbourne (now defunct). Right until the last minute and after we had rolled up with the removal wagons we were not sure if we would be allowed in the house. But it was OK in the end and we moved in on July 7^th 1977.

View of our house

Taken from the high rise flats next door

It is one of the three houses next to the sea

The Hydro Hotel is in the foreground

Bennett you will have gathered was never a firm favourite with me. I was telephoned by the press when Bennett was afterwards promoted to be Chairman of London Transport; he had previously been chief engineer. I had to tell the press I knew nothing about Bennett but had bought the house from him a few months back. I was very amused to read in the national press that Sir Horace Cutler who was at the time Chairman of the Greater London Council had kept Bennett waiting a long time whilst Cutler ate his lunch at the desk. Bennett was rotund and I guess fond of his food. I can imagine with pleasure how this pompous man must have suffered. In his turn Cutler was sacked and I guess was savaged by Margaret Thatcher for losing the battle with Labour. I am not fond of Thatcher either! She indirectly ensured my early retirement.

Anthea and me on our way to Glyndebourne

After Mr and Mrs Bennett vacated the premises I myself lived in the house until 2004 some 27 years. We were very happy there I like to think until Anthea died in 1994. She loved her job at Eastbourne District General Hospital. At that time we owned two Minis as well as my own Rover car. One of the Minis was nearly new and we gave that to Grant and Anne to keep in Leeds. The older decrepit Mini Anthea used to drive to work emitting a cloud of smoke. But it kept going until years later when I swapped it for a new Mini. The old Mini eventually refused to start and I told the garage this. Don’t worry they said, we’ll soon get it going but they didn’t and it was towed away.

The other Mini despite being new soon showed its age. Grant didn’t think it was a good enough car for a student of his calibre. Anne loyally said it was just that as it was so small Grant found it hard to work on and didn’t like working on it. She had a job at this time as a receptionist at the MAFF Veterinary Investigation Laboratory in Leeds where I had worked. She had not told anyone she was my daughter and was just known as Anne Partridge but shrewd Jimmy Shaw the DVO said ”You’re Bill Jackson’s daughter”. Whilst there she advertised the Mini for sale in the local press and gave the Lab telephone number. I said that if one of my Clerical Assistants did that to me I would have gone galactic! But Anne got away with it. She always does get away with it and she always does well at interviews. Her working career started off when she was sacked from her first job, that of sales assistant at Woolworths in Epsom. She was sacked for talking to boys. That figures.

I had sold the caravan but still had the Heron sailing dinghy. I joined the sailing club where launching was off the steeply shoaling beach. I eventually got fed up with this and bought a Topper which I still have even though it is out on permanent loan to Ray Binyon’s grandson Alix. The Topper was good for it could be sailed with one up or two up. Taking it up the beach was no problem for effectively it was in three parts. The three parts were mast and sail, the dagger board and rudder and the hull. It sailed well too and would plane on occasion. I just used it for cruising and once sailed right round Beachy Head Light. That trip caused a man on the beach to have kittens. I had timed it so that I came back on the flow so that what tide there was was taking me back to the club. The wind died as it does when night begins to fall and so I got out what is called the praddle. It works like a paddle. Using that I slowly made my way home but the man on the beach was convinced I was in trouble. I spoke to him later and tried to explain that it was all well thought out.

Me aboard the Topper

(on the open sea off Eastbourne)

Landsmen often read things seen out at sea quite wrongly. I once saw a French boat on the reef which was outside our house. A sailor was standing on the stern holding up a flare. I telephoned the coastguard and found as I expected so had other people. But you never know, he could have been standing there holding a flare and nobody telephone. It was obvious in fact that he would soon float off as the tide was making. I stood talking to a man. “It is obvious it won’t be long before he floats off as the tide is coming in” I said. To my amazement the man’s wife who was standing some way off announced loudly to the assembled crowd “It is obvious it won’t be long before he floats off as the tide is coming in” Then I said by way of conversation that “It is a French boat and perhaps they do not have an up to date chart of these waters.” Soon over the beach the lady loudly announced “It is a French boat and perhaps they do not have an up to date chart of these waters.” After that I thought perhaps it best not to exchange ideas with the man. I was after all not being paid any royalties for these broadcast announcements.

The seven houses of Ravens Croft which fronted on the sea had formed a limited company to run the communally owned garden. We all had a single share in it, one per household. It was a sensible idea. George Rowson was Chairman of the company and Freddie Williams a retired bank manager (Eastbourne was full of retired bank managers) was Company Secretary. Soon after we got there George Rowson died and I was elected as Chairman. It was no sinecure for everybody had their own ideas. Non-voting spouses were allowed to be present and sometimes even Anthea did not obey the instructions of the Chairman!

All sorts of problems arose. For example owners of a house wanted to fence off “their bit of garden”. I pointed out that it was not their bit of garden it was owned by the company. There were problems at the AGM every time when with people who had no standing wanted to have their say. That was OK provided that they all realised that only the shareholders had a vote. Each house had one shareholder. Freddie dear man was a dead loss. I had to keep the minutes for he could not or would not. One time the insurance company who insured our boundary wall wanted to raise the premium and to increase the cover. Freddie was all for that until I asked what could happen to the wall apart from it falling down. We kept the cover as it was.

People in Ravens Croft usually got on with each other but not always and I occasionally had to pour oil on troubled waters. I did not always succeed. My sometime immediate next door neighbours wanted to erect a wrought iron fence along the top of the wall of their patio so as to be able to keep their dog in. The houses were in echelon so three of us had patios adjacent to each other. I would not consent to an iron fence on our bit. I saw no need to go to that expense. So our patio remained intact. The people who initiated the wrought iron fence were not very nice and I think sensed that the other neighbours did not like them. When they were leaving they came to me and said “Well we thought you at least meant well!” That was a bit left-handed. Before many years had gone by the iron fences rusted in the sea air. People got fed up painting them and the fences were removed.

Lizzie Irving Cohen (from Brooklyn) Anthea and me on the Thames Embankment

Me and Anthea at Chartwell

A number of strange people lived at Ravens Croft from time to time. A Mr & Mrs Greenspan were said to be very odd, she especially, but I never actually met them face to face. One day two pantechnicons from the Isle of Man turned up quite unexpectedly. They loaded up the furniture of the Greenspans and left. I was outside standing by the garage when Mr Greenspan drove away in his car and gave me a very wintry smile. That was the sole extent of our social exchange during the many months we had lived together in Ravens Croft. Nobody knew beforehand that the Greenspans were leaving and nobody knew they were going to the Isle of Man. Evidently Mrs Greenspan used to say some outrageous things at the annual meetings of the Ravens Croft board. She asked the Websters once, “How do I know you are married?” Living together but not being married in those parts was a heinous crime.

Chartwell again

In the Websters’ case there was indeed some room for doubt. Vi Webster had made a lot of money after she started Simplicity Patterns. The very wealthy Vi Webster soon after she was widowed, married the deceased’s brother. So a Mrs Webster indeed married a Mr Webster. Vi’s first husband had been well to do and had moved easily in the best circles such as the Royal Yacht Squadron. Maurice his brother was very different. He could be rude and uncouth flaunting the wealth that Vi had settled on him after they married to give him some independence. At times he would say “What’s munny (sic)? I could buy up the lot of you!” to which I said “Maurice we are not for sale”. Maurice came from a line of charabanc owners in Oldham. He had had a motor cycle accident and had a plate in his skull that that may have affected him at times. When he upset people I used to tell them I would go and see Vi and she would sort it all out.

Whilst in Eastbourne I wrote a thesis on farm animal welfare for the University of Berne. I had been turned down by Glasgow because once again they said I was not a graduate. London would have accepted me but said they reserved all their doctoral places for London graduates which I thought was fair enough. But through the good offices of my friend in Sweden, Professor Ingvar Ekesbo I was accepted by Berne and my supervisor there Professor Andreas Nabholz became a great friend.

The work took me four years. It was intermittent for there were long gaps when I was waiting for answers to my numerous queries from the 21 member states of the Council of Europe. As Andrew Nabholz knew the Chief Veterinary Officers of each state I eventually got answers from most places. There was no answer at all from Spain even from the Spanish equivalent of the RSPCA. Portugal, Greece and Malta provided only a little information. Countries like Norway and Sweden sent masses of useful information and it was my task to distil all this into my Thesis. I came to love it dearly but eventually put it before the university and it was accepted. I may say it was written entirely in English. And so in 1980 I became Dr Jackson.

Mowing the lawn at Eastbourne and Paddy weeding the building is the garage

Maurice found staying in hotels was not to his liking. I suspect the truth was that he lacked the necessary social skills. The solution he found was to buy an enormous caravan the size of a Winnebago as seen in the USA. That meant a huge garage. All our garages were integral to the house. Vi had converted her existing garage to make a granny annex for her mother. But unfortunately the old lady died before she could use it. Maurice got permission to build a huge double garage to house his caravan and his Mercedes car. The building looked very like a power sub station and was really an eyesore. Permission had been granted by a planning officer rather than the planning committee. Everyone was up in arms about it they told me. This all happened before we got to Ravens Croft. “You don’t buy the view” Maurice evidently told one of the occupants of the flats opposite whose previous view of the sea had been lost. But thereafter planning permissions in our area were scrutinised very carefully.

The end of terrace house formerly owned by George Rowsell was bought by a couple who converted the garage into a swimming pool and said they were going to do without a garage. That conversion did not come about without a lot of controversy, especially from the owners of the flats behind us who overlooked all our houses. After that the house was bought by Ken and Heather Wagstaff and they wanted a garage. Eventually they got permission but only after Ken had kept a large and very battered old white van in the garden in full view of the flats because he said he needed it for somewhere to keep his garden tools. As he had thought, the alternative of a garage was better than the van and he got permission.

Our friends the Binyons at Chester made us work when we visited. I moved those heavy blocks from one end of the site to the other and then Ray insisted I move them all back again

Dr Jackson in wellies

Relaxing at Tatton Park after a hard day’s building

Freddie Williams had become even less effective over time and Heather Wagstaff was elected as Company Secretary and I found her a marvellous help. She was very skilled in business matters and had been running an hotel with Ken her husband. The Wagstaffs more or less lived down the acrimony caused by their battle for a garage to replace the one converted into a swimming pool Ken unfortunately died a lingering death from a mesothelioma caused by inhalation of asbestos years before.

Freddie Williams’ wife Mollie was a marvel. She was the sister of Sir Basil Smallpiece who had been chairman of Cunard. I met him only once. Smallpiece must have suffered at school with a surname like that. A very nice modest man I thought him. Mollie had been born in Brazil but left that country aged two. Despite this she afterwards found she could understand some Portuguese words. She had been a schoolteacher before she married. Freddie had been employed by Barclays for many years and had learned German when seconded to man the telephone at Barclays Hamburg branch. He was a sergeant early in WW2 and was a prisoner of war for years and found his knowledge of German a great advantage when he made his several unsuccessful escape attempts. They had four children two boys and two girls. One of the girls, Phoebe, was a brilliant pianist but unfortunately whilst at York University she became a drug addict and a schizophrenic. She spent all her welfare allowance on drugs. Freddie was authoritarian and went to Social Services and demanded they stop giving her money. I told him that as a parent he had no right to do that and of course the payments continued.

Mollie died. Anthea who had been called sent me round to sit with Freddie. I did not want to do this as I did not know what to do. “Just sit here,” said Anthea. I did this and exchanged no word with Freddie but I am perfectly sure Anthea was right; it is not good for a bereaved person to be left alone. I think Mollie perhaps had money to leave. It was all left to Freddie and the family. Phoebe looked after her father very well indeed and he said so frequently. Phoebe’s sister Mary was also very good, coming down from London very frequently. Freddie I thought despite being a bank manager, or even perhaps being a bank manager! was no good with money. He kept saying I’ve got plenty of monnay (that was how he pronounced it, Maurice pronounced it munny. Advisors from the bank evidently persuaded him to take out an annuity. This at the age of 92! So when Freddie died his money died with him. The house had to be sold and I think Phoebe might well have been left with no-where to live. Certainly the two boys seemed not to care. Mary was different. Phoebe was using the family solicitor. I told her to get her own and advised her how to do this through the legal aid scheme. There was what is called a conflict of interest between the family and Phoebe. Phoebe got a small house provided by the Williams estate.

Other notables who lived in Ravens Croft included my immediate neighbour, Alison Tagg the widow of a Bank Manager who had worked in Persia (Iran) during WW2. When Alison was taken to hospital at the age of 88 or so she was interviewed and asked what she did in the war. “I was a spy” she said. And of course that information was correct, as a regular attendee at cocktail parties she would have been privy to a lot of gossip which would be of great value to HM Government. Anthea and she were very good friends. After Anthea died Alison got the wanderlust and telephoned me out of courtesy to say she was just about to put her house on the market. I told her I knew of a man (Dr Kenneth Vickery) who was very keen to buy such a house and if she would permit me I would tell him about the house and they could argue about the price between themselves as it was not in any way my responsibility. The Vickerys did buy the house and were my neighbours for many years.

Ron Blackstock had earlier almost sold his house to Kenneth but had accepted another offer. Ron had an unfortunate accident after he was left alone when his wife died. He was sitting in the lounge asleep and on waking fell through a glass door. When the Ravens Croft houses were built toughened glass was not required. Ron sent for me. He was bleeding very badly from his right arm. I got Anthea round and she wrapped Ron’s arm up using a number of her teacloths. I suppose I ought to have telephoned for an ambulance but I thought we could get him into A&E quicker by car. At any rate that was what we did. It always looks as if a lot more blood has been lost than actually is the case. I also thought we had probably almost stopped the haemorrhage anyway. But Anthea was quite cross for she never got her teacloths back. Soaked in cold water they would of course have come up as good as new but perhaps the A&E staff did not realise that. Ron afterwards went into a home in fact several homes. I used to visit him until it was obvious he no longer recognised me.

Denys and Bridget Meyer was another lovely couple. Denys was a retired member of the Baltic Exchange which deals with shipping, not stocks and shares. He once gave a tip to another neighbour, Dr Ronald Green, Redwood Bricks I think it was. They did not do well. Denys was the son of Canon Meyer and he had a brother Jack Meyer. I never knew Jack but he was by all accounts a very colourful character. A test cricketer he went out to India to take up a post in business but was not very good at that. He was asked to teach the sons of a Maharajah how to play cricket. As he had played for England and had a very successful career at that he was an excellent coach. The Maharajah was very anglophile and wished his sons to be brought up as Englishmen. By this time several other boys had been added to the coaching. Jack suggested he take the lot back to the UK and hire a house big enough to run a school.

He found a house in Somerset and with the money from the Maharajah he started Millfield School. That is now a very large, very successful public boarding school. For many years they have done well both academically and in sports of all kinds. Jack got the boys to dig him a swimming pool! Judy Grinham a famous swimmer went to Millfield as did many other stars of sport. He was famous for his ducks. His habit was to feed them from a bucket. John Hooton whose boys went there was very irritated by Jack Meyer feeding ducks all the time he was talking to him. Jack was known as the Boss and would not only take brilliant pupils but also those who were good at sport. Jack was a bit of a crook I suspect but Denys was the soul of probity and correctness. Whenever he met Anthea he raised his hat. Sadly he died leaving Bridget whose children had left home. Alice married to a very nice solicitor and twin boys, who were in the James Bond Film “Octopussy” playing twin knife throwers in a gypsy camp. They said that in one scene they jumped over a fence but in actual fact they took off in one continent and landed thousands of miles away in another continent. Film editing showed it as seamless.

Doreen and Ron Green arrived long after we were established in Ravens Croft. Ron was a retired Chest Physician and an excellent violinist. Anthea and I had for years run a very successful Ravens Croft Christmas party which consisted of a few things like mince pies and a glass of wine. It was a very simple affair. People just talked and enjoyed themselves. Immediately she arrived Doreen asked me if she ought to continue to run the Christmas Parties she had had at their house in Alfriston. I said it was a free country and she went ahead. Her party included carols which were accompanied by a very good pianist and Ron and me on the violin. Afterwards Anthea said that it was the end of our own Christmas party. Although I said we could still have one I think she was right and we never had another Christmas party.

After Anthea died in 1994 things were never the same for me. Lizzie had brought a barbecue back for me from Canada. To break the ice with the neighbours and get them used to BBQ’s I invited them all to a Canadian BBQ Party. It coincided with a visit by the Binyons and Ray took over the cooking. I had been to a few BBQ’s including one run by my chambers in Lewes, Westgate Chambers and the food was often inedible. I pre-cooked it to make sure it was all edible. It went so well that we decided to repeat it every year on our front lawn which was communally owned but never used as under the rules no ball games were permitted. We charged £5 a head and any surplus went to St Wilfred’s Hospice. The BBQ went on for nearly ten years. The personnel changed over the years. Ray dropped out after a few years and in fact from then on avoided June visits to Eastbourne. Lots of people helped especially Heather who had for years run an hotel and scorned people who thought catering for 60 people or so was a hard task. John and Brenda Driver of St John’s Church refused to come after they paid one visit as they could not stand Doreen.

Continuing the Ravens Croft saga with the death of Ron Green there was nothing holding Doreen Green back. She ran a weekly bible study class. She was very cross when I would not attend this or agree to put the chairs out for her. The Christmas parties continued but in the absence of musicians a record player was used. Our vicar, Canon Geoffrey Daintree came and at a suitable point made a speech preceded by a playing of “O come, all ye faithful” and he followed that by a sermon lasting about half an hour. It was a far cry from the Jackson party of mince pies, glasses of vino and chatting. Richard Green was at it and administered the mulled wine which he told me was red wine and spices. Good to be in such erudite company.

Richard Green I had once thought was very professional. He was not only a solicitor but also a Commissioner for Oaths and when Anne was divorcing Grant she asked me for an affidavit which I drafted and took it to Richard to swear it. By this time I was practising at the bar and Richard’s fee was a nice bottle of wine. My opinion as to his professionalism took a severe knock when he was found guilty of misappropriation of clients’ funds. He administered a trust owned by two old ladies and “borrowed” money from it which he paid back. This was to fund a lavish lifestyle involving large dogs, a house with a swimming pool and flashy cars. His marriage was failing and perhaps that had something to do with it.

Richard was up before Judge John Gower in the Crown Court at Lewes. I knew John Gower well. Doreen said she thought Richard ought to get a top QC to defend him after a guilty plea. Sussex people prefer Sussex people and my pupil master Anthony Niblett I thought was an ideal counsel for Richard as he also knew John Gower well. Anthony got the brief but despite Anthony’s no doubt honeyed words on his behalf and Richard got three years in Ford Open Prison. That was about the tariff to be expected. To do her justice Doreen took all this very well and visited Richard regularly. She said the shame would have killed Ronald if he had still been alive. All the neighbours were supportive of Doreen at this difficult time for her.

Doreen was very like an Edwardian Lady. She was tall gracious and dressed in a very old-fashioned way. Everybody thought she was kind and indeed so she was, but she certainly liked to get her own way. I found her hard to live up to over the many years up to 2004 when I left Eastbourne. I think we all found her hard to live up to. If I didn’t go round after about six weeks she used to ring me up and upbraid me for neglecting her. Sadly after I left she had to go into a home but she seems to have settled even though it is in Nottinghamshire and airs and graces are not popular thereabouts.

Following Anthea’s death I had taken more part in St John’s Church. Peter Williams had been succeeded as vicar by Alan McCabe who was a wonderful man. By this time I had become a sidesman and the head sidesman was Douglas Riley a retired solicitor. He had been a Lt Colonel in the army. One day when I turned up at 7.30am for the 8.00am service he thrust a bundle of letters into my hand and said “Give a copy of this to everybody who comes but tell them to take it into the Church to read”. The letter was to say that Alan was ill and had been advised to take it very easily. The next week a similar letter was handed out to say Alan had had to retire on health grounds.

By this time I had become very friendly with John Driver and we use to sit together in Church. John had a slight cockney accent. Nobody spoke to him at first but John was the salt of the earth. He and his wife Brenda had fostered many children. He had been a keen member of Toc H in Orpington where they had lived before retirement. At one time Douglas was be-moaning the dearth of sidesmen. I suggested I ask John if he would act as one. “Ok,” said John “but I won’t wear a tie”. John was a wonderful sidesman and help in the church. He helped the treasurer, ran the car picking up service and was a great chap all round. He and his wife could not stand Doreen as I wrote above!

Alan was succeeded by Canon Geoffrey Daintree. Geoffrey was an evangelical which suited the Bishop of Lewes, an Ulsterman who had himself succeeded Bishop Peter who was found to be a homosexual and had to resign. In turn Geoffrey suited Doreen down to the ground. I could not bring myself to become an evangelical and although I did not like to think about homosexuals I have met many fine such men. I think they are all humans and God’s creatures. I think that tolerant view is common at Southwark Cathedral where the Dean will bless homosexual unions. One of the canons at Southwark, the Rev. Geoffrey John was due to become Bishop of Reading but was pressured into withdrawing when it became known he was a non-practising homosexual. Geoffrey Daintree announced this withdrawal from the pulpit saying he was sorry for Canon John personally but glad he had withdrawn.

About 1994 I took up golf again. There is a municipal course in Eastbourne but it is only nine holes and crisscrossed by ditches as it is very low lying. Green plants cover the surface of the ditches so if your ball goes in there it is lost for good. The course is patronised by people who cannot play very well (me) or youngsters who have little idea of golf etiquette or sympathy with a slower player. So when these young people get behind you you can expect balls to be whistling round your ears. I consulted John Driver who I knew played regularly at Royal Eastbourne. I played with him on the nine-hole course and soon joined as a full member.

For years John used to pick me up weekly at 8.30am and drive me to the course. It was great fun. I had a go also with what is called “The Ancients” a group of older golfers who used to meet every Wednesday. I did not get on so well with them but I continued to play with John and also often took myself off and played on the short course and often met someone who wanted to play with me. Twice I took part in the Church team and in fact played the winning stroke one day for my tee shot had landed on the last green and our opponents both failed to get on the green and gave up allowing St John’s Church to beat Our Lady of Ransom, the Catholic Church.

I got involved with Neighbourhood Watch a group of do-gooders whose job was to help the police. They spent much time drafting a constitution. The final version was four A4 closely typed pages long. I could have drafted one on the back of an envelope which would have done just as well. Not much was achieved at the Neighbourhood Watch meetings which were used by people too fond of their own voices to snipe at the police. Les Bruce in whose house it had all started and I continued to go to the meetings but got very fed up with all the ego trips.

My life in Eastbourne came to an end when I was aged 78 through my relative ill health. In 2000 I had a very bad attack of sciatica. I was on my way at the time to visit Ray and Elsie Binyon in Chester and was staying with Sue Donovan my niece through marriage and her husband Neil. In the middle of the night I was in bed at their house and wanted a pee but I was unable to move. I thumped on the floor (it was three am) with my walking stick and Neil came and got me something to pee into. At first he said there was nothing suitable but I had seen in the bathroom a jar of shells. I got him to empty the shells out and used that. It was a great relief.

An ambulance was summoned and I was taken to the Queen’s Medical Centre, Nottingham. They were very good there but they did not realise I was too deaf to hear my name called so I was there for a very long time. Getting back to Sue’s that evening they telephoned Lizzie who was at the BBC working in Glasgow. She flew back and eventually drove me back to London in the Mercedes. I stayed with her in her flat but had to visit St Thomas’ where they kitted me out with a Zimmer.

Home in Eastbourne I went to see my doctor who did not even examine me. He said “you know where the pain is”. He agreed it sounded very like sciatica. He referred me to a private specialist, a Mr Ross. There are four orthopaedic men in Eastbourne and none of them much good from what I heard. After six weeks waiting for a private appointment Mr Ross was quite cavalier and did not even refer me to a physiotherapist. That was in 2002. In 2004 I moved to London with the great help of both Anne and Lizzie. I love it here. Fortunately Lizzie had just bought a house in St Hilaire SW France and she was able to make good use of much of my surplus furniture.

MY STORY

CHAPTER NINE

TOLWORTH SOCIAL LIFE

Tolworth was widely regarded among the rurally-based veterinary officers of MAFF as a cross between Devil’s Island and Chateau d’If. The latter was what Spike Milligan described as the historic Gallic penitentiary. It is where the fictitious Count of Monte Christo was housed for a time. But I liked Tolworth very much. It was not only a change of place but the ambience was very different from what I had been used to. I write Tolworth but in fact I was posted to the Animal Welfare Section at Chessington under George Taylor again.

The move from Beverley was not easy from the domestic viewpoint. I thought that the bungalow where we lived might take a long time to sell as it had been vacant for eighteen months before we bought it in 1965. In the end I was persuaded to sell to John Charles a friend who had moved from Beverly to Coventry and then wanted to move back. He was an engineer who was manager at Armstrong’s of Beverley. The problem was that John was not willing to wait for us to move out and so we had to move into a rented house for six months, or at least Anthea and the girls did. But in the end it all worked out.

I had kept our caravan at the old house until we finally left for Surrey and the plan was to tow it down to Ewell. We were all set to get off with Fluffy Anne’s cat being placed the night before in a wicker basket in the caravan. He was crying and Anne let him out as she was sure he could not get out of the caravan. But he got out of the skylight. I was very upset. But fortunately Fluffy turned up before we finally left so all was well.

Houses in Surrey were expensive and hard to find so when a suitable one became available in Castle Avenue Ewell I bought it before Anthea had time to see it. But I think she liked it when she did see it. It was very near Nonesuch Park which was very nice. Lizzie got places at three schools, Surbiton Girls High School (GPDST), Sutton Girls High School and Rosebery School in Epsom, a state school. After much debate she elected for the latter and I am sure it was an excellent choice. Anne also was entered for Surbiton and she and Anthea came down by train for her to sit the entrance exam. She didn’t get an offer and said afterwards that she desperately needed to go to the lavatory but did not like to ask. Miss Kovacs the headmistress told me afterwards that she would not have refused a place for Anne but that was after we had made plans for Anne to attend the Sacred Hearts Convent at Epsom. Anne in fact later joined the Rosebery sixth form.

We settled down and I think we liked living in Surrey although Lizzie says she did not. Both girls eventually led quite a hectic social life in Epsom, Anne especially did so and I don’t think that helped her academically. Lizzie did well at school but when she left they said she was not academically gifted but was very artistic so she did not go in for a degree but elected for a place at Bretton Hall near Wakefield in Yorkshire where production of drama teachers was the aim and got a teachers training certificate but not a B.Ed.

Anne went through a lot of boyfriends and we quite thought she would marry Richard Sochaki whose father was Polish. Anne made the National Headlines when a story about her appeared in the Sun newspaper. She and a friend had decided to dress up in boys’ uniforms and attend the prize giving at the local Grammar School, the Glyn, where Richard was a pupil. The headmaster spotted that two of the ”boys” were girls and was furious. He locked Anne and her friend up which was quite illegal of course. The headmaster Dr Sharp had a reputation of being a merciless interrogator. He had been in army intelligence I think. Anne was sufficiently impressed by him as to be terrified but had the presence of mind to eat the name tape which appeared in the blazer borrowed from Richard. She then managed to escape through a window. Anthea was aware of what had been planned and told me at lunch time but as usual I had not been told previously until it was too late, the family motto “don’t tell your father” had operated. When the Sun reporter rang up Anthea denied knowing about any of this but Anne’s friend’s mum was not so discrete and a headline duly appeared “New Girls were Boys” together with the information that the plot had been discovered because “Anne couldn’t hide everything”. Anne afterwards did not marry Richard as we had all hoped, but Grant Partridge who was also at the Glyn.

Anne’s wedding to Grant had to be at home because we were going to the USA where I was to give a talk at a University in Iowa at Des Moines and the long planned trip was going to be expensive for us. Anne sprang the news to us about 2.00am a time when I am not at my best or in the best of tempers. We were surprised she was to marry Grant. Richard Sochaski would have been a better choice but Grant was very good looking. So we hired morning suits and held the reception at our house in Ewell. We were lucky with the weather and a lot of people helped us with the catering. Anne went off to live in Leeds where Grant was studying design. Meanwhile Lizzie was at Bretton Hall near Wakefield a famous place for training drama teachers.

MAFF DVO salaries left us rather impoverished although we took every opportunity to attend any free functions! As soon as the girls became old enough to be left Anthea asked me if I would mind her becoming a maternity nurse so as to augment our income. I was quite happy for this to happen. Maternity nurses were well paid and usually lived with the mother for about a month on a private basis. So Anthea rang up the Midwives Council and asked if she could take up such a post. They told her that their information was that she had died. Certainly she was no longer on the Midwives Register and if she wanted to get back on it she would have to do a refresher course of three months. Midwives were like gold dust she was told and with Anthea’s consent they arranged there and then for a refresher course at Epsom District Hospital. Although she never told me until much later, Anthea hated Epsom District Hospital where she became a staff midwife immediately after her refresher course. But she told me after she had left Epsom that she was never happy when there.

I was never good at office politics and I suspect the same applies to Lizzie. Perhaps Anne is brighter than we are at such things.

But one good thing was that I had a Damascus moment on a plane coming back from Rome. It was December 19^th 1971. I was seated in an aeroplane smoking a big fat cigar. It was just before Christmas and a time to indulge oneself. I looked down on myself and thought “you idiot” and I stubbed out the cigar there and then and have never smoked from that day to this.

At home in Ewell the girls had joined an organisation called “Willing Hands” and they did chores for various people. One person was John Dettmar a widower and veteran of the Somme who lived just down the road from us in Castle Avenue. He was a director of Heinemanns, the publishers before he retired. I think it was Lizzie who went to him first but then Anne followed. He rang me up to say what fine girls they were. Anne told him how to alter his hearing aid by turning the wheel which controlled the volume. He was delighted. Over time the Jackson family saw a lot of John Dettmar. He used to give us books which he did not want to keep. Heinemanns used to send him copies of any books they had published. He was keen to get one of us to write a book for him and Lizzie came nearest with a children’s book about an elephant. My efforts to write about the environment for farm animals came to nothing. I did in the end get permission from MAFF to write it providing I submitted it to them chapter by chapter for approval but before I got around to actually doing it a book on the same subject appeared.

Lincoln‘s Inn

George Taylor my boss at Tolworth had been called to the Bar at Lincoln’s Inn some years earlier. My friend Arthur Shearer in Hoylake had a few years previously suggested I ought to read for the Bar. One problem for anyone living in the provinces at that time was that of “dining in”. This merely means that you have to dine in Hall for three nights during term time for three terms of three years or thirty six dinners. It would have been very expensive to do this from Beverley or from Birkenhead so it did not happen although I had called in to Gibbs and Weldon solicitors in Chancery Lane who did correspondence courses for the first two years of the Bar course. Being in Tolworth seemed to me to provide a good opportunity and so I asked George’s advice and was told it was not hard to read for the Bar. He proposed me to Lincoln’s Inn and I started a correspondence course at the College of Law which Gibson and Weldon had now become.

I found study of the law very interesting and liked dining in too. The thing was to watch where you sat because African Students especially were very erudite and kept citing cases you had never heard of. You had never heard of them because they were not important! And in due course I presented myself for examination and to my astonishment I passed and kept on passing. The tutors at the College of Law were very good and careful attention to what they wrote on answers was vital. I was often annoyed at their comments. But after I had become more knowledgeable and re-read the papers I realised they were right and very perceptive.

Part 1b of the Bar course (the second year) was abridged for graduates and I was very cross to be told that as an MRCVS I was not a graduate. But I had been a postgraduate (Diploma in Veterinary State Medicine) by virtue of my MRCVS which was called a graduate equivalent but to no avail I had to do the whole of part 1b. Once parts 1a and 1b, that is the first two years had been passed I asked the College what happens next and was told I had to resign my job and become a full time student. That was not possible so I joined a crammers run by a barrister in the Temple called Basil Webb at various places such as the St Bride’s Institute or in various chambers where he could get a room and a tutor. It was very hit and miss. But eventually I scraped through the finals after one failure and a term at Regent Street Polytechnic now Westminster University where my daughter Lizzie is doing a PhD and a research job. And so on November 25^th 1975 at Lincoln’s Inn I was called to the Bar of England and Wales by Lord Hailsham.

I was greatly helped during my final year by Stephen Richards who sat finals at the same time as I did. He was the son of a veterinary surgeon Alun Richards, Assistant Chief Veterinary Officer at Tolworth. Stephen made his drafting notes available to me and I am sure I would never have passed without the aid of these. Stephen did very well afterwards becoming a very senior judge indeed. I will always be grateful to him for his kindness. He wrote to me when years later I became a tenant in Chambers at Lewes.

Lincoln‘s Inn

The Library

One of the effects of the Official Secrets Act (OSA) was that anything I wrote had to be approved first. The OFA was taken very seriously by MAFF and in fact it still operates even after retirement so I suppose in theory I ought to submit all I have written above to MAFF or to its successor Defra, for approval. I have no such intention!

I would happily have stayed at Tolworth but for George Taylor who had decided to become Bill Chubb’s unofficial partner. George thought he himself ought to be CVO and was very disgruntled at not being further promoted. As a close associate of George I was worried about being tarred with the same brush. I knew all about George’s commercial interest and it was an uncomfortable time for me. Noel Allsup had elected to go back into the provinces and for better or worse I did the same.

.

MY STORY

CHAPTER EIGHT

BEVERLEY SOCIAL

The house at Beverley

Built by a builder for himself and it showed!

The family took the move to Beverley quite well on the whole though it meant leaving our lovely bungalow behind. As Birkenhead Council had decided to build a very large estate on the land adjacent the price we got for the bungalow was lower than might have otherwise been expected. But in Beverley I had found another bungalow. With her heart condition Anthea needed a bungalow.

A further problem was schooling for the girls. They were enrolled in Hull High School for girls, a Church Schools company which was housed at Tranby Croft scene of the Edwardian Baccarat Scandal. Queen Victoria’s eldest son the Prince of Wales was involved. At that time Tranby Croft was owned by the Wilson family who were well to do ship-owners.

Lizzie on left Anne on right

In Edinburgh I had met Adrian Bull an agriculturalist who lived at the Kildary hotel. He gave me an introduction to his uncle, Canon Ben Bull who was in charge of Beverley Minster. I had dinner at Canon Bull’s house. The Jackson family have connections with Beverley Minster through the Thornton family. The wall of the nave was several feet out of true. The Thornton solution (famed world wide) was to erect a timber structure to support the wall whilst it was jacked up to allow for new foundations to be put in.

But coming back to Ben Bull who was charming, we would have very much liked to have joined his congregation but we were in the parish of St Mary’s. St Mary’s was very much the up market church. St Mary’s main claim to fame so far as I am concerned was that Dr Samuel Johnson once preached there.

Beverley has much to commend it. We were close to the Westwood, a very large open space with primeval woodland at one end. The road to York passes over the Westwood and Beverley Racecourse is on one side of it. We thus did not have to pay to watch the races, just look over the fence. I once took the children to see a race and was egged on to place a small bet on two horses. I have a lifelong aversion to any form of gambling as a consequence of my Primitive Methodist past. The horses I picked came in first and second. As I collected the modest winnings at the bookmakers I did my very best to impress on the girls that this result was pure luck. Even though their father was a veterinary surgeon and familiar with horses, no-one could ever predict a winner and gambling was a complete mugs game. I think I may have succeeded for neither of the girls has subsequently shown any interest in gambling.

The Beverley racecourse was the scene every year of the Pony Club Camp. The Pony Club is an offshoot of the hunt. The Club runs excellent courses in horsemastership. I was very pleased when the girls joined. Our erstwhile neighbour Dr Julian Bird was an anaesthetist at Westwood Hospital. He was quite a character. He was crazy about ponies and encouraged our two girls as did Betty Porter one of the Veterinary Officers. Eventually I bought Rocky, a Welsh pony which I had seen when in Cheshire. I borrowed Julian’s land rover and drove him back calling in on the way at Ray Binyon’s Chester house. He thought I was mad. I think he was right up to a point but I am glad the girls did have the opportunity to own their own pony. The expenses of keeping a pony are underrated but we managed. Saddles are quite expensive and when eighteen months later we sold Rocky I got only half the price back. The reason Rocky was sold was that Elizabeth refused to ride him to the blacksmiths. It was true he had thrown her once but I thought the short road journey was quite safe. After Rocky threw Lizzie off I lunged him for a week or so. I led him up to the Westwood and then let him go tethered on a short rope. The first time I did this I think Rocky got a great shock for at the end of the rope he found I could hold him and all he could do was trot round in a circle. It certainly gave him a lot of discipline.

By this time we had a menagerie. There were three animals, Rocky plus Rusty our Jack Russell and Fluffy a half Persian cat. Rusty was quite small being a Jack Russell but he had great ambitions. If there was a bitch on heat within a range of five miles Rusty would be there but without a step ladder. He was I think twice brought home in a police car. One police officer opened the car door for Rusty and said “out you go Romeo”. One time a solicitor’s wife we knew telephoned Anthea and said she had found Rusty on the Westwood. Her house was also near the Westwood but perhaps a mile away to the north. “That’s funny, replied Anthea, “Rusty has just walked in the door”. I think the solicitor’s wife would have had to take the dog she had found and dump him where she had found him perhaps having trouble getting him to go away. We never found out the end of the story. We used to have snow on the Westwood occasionally and it was great for sledging. We never managed to get Rusty to pull the sledge. He would occasionally allow himself to stay on the sledge in someone’s arms but he took every opportunity to jump out and then ran alongside barking at us.

I had found Fluffy on a farm and took Anne along to pick him out. At first Rocky was kept in a stable nearby and the girls used to take it in turn to look after him in the early morning before school. Some of the children complained at the horsy smell even though the girls wore pinafores over their school uniforms. Later on Rocky lived at a riding school where he was on half livery. That meant occasionally he was hired out to pupils by the owner of the school.

Coming back to Julian Bird he had bought a house just outside the town and had installed on the grass field several old railway trucks which he converted into stables. One day when I was with him in their lounge a bulldozer appeared and proceeded to uproot a hedge. “Hey Julian” said Nora his wife, “what is that bulldozer doing to our hedge?” Julian had obviously omitted to tell he was going to make another gateway into the field.

Once when I was away on duty Anthea fell ill. All the time she was at Beverley she was rather unwell. Julian took Anthea home and for a short time she stayed with the Bird family. Rows between Julian and Nora were frequent, she discovered. She once saw Nora throw a vase at Julian. Julian caught it and carried on with the conversation as though nothing had happened.

We had dealings with various medicos in Beverley. Our own Doctor was a Dr Jarvis who wasn’t a bad doctor but he failed to realise how ill Anthea was on one occasion. Her heart was giving trouble and eventually she had to have a second heart operation. Julian offered to lend us his support for he knew a lot of people locally. But in the end Anthea decided she wanted to go back to Liverpool to Broadgreen Hospital be operated on by the surgeon she knew there, Mr Ronnie Edwards who was as it happens the son of a veterinary surgeon.

Dr Michael Rose was another friend. He was a bit pompous though. He told me once that his father was a carpenter and so he, Dr Rose, had come from rather humble beginnings. It occurred to me than that some people might regard a country GP as rather humble beginnings but I had enough tact not to voice such an opinion. But Rose was OK and became a lay reader at St Mary’s.

I joined the Constitutional Club in Beverley and used to play snooker there a lot. I remember walking there with Rusty sitting in the pocket of my gannex raincoat. I was amazed when from this vantage point he started to bark. I used to tie him up at the entrance to the club but never left him there for long as I thought it unfair to him.

I made friends at the club with Harry Roberts a pork butcher who became Mayor of Beverley. During his year of office Harry decided to run a medieval procession and appealed to any horse owners to take part. I did not volunteer immediately and was chided by Harry. I then recruited a pony for Anne and Lizzie rode Rocky led by me in costume. All went well but Rocky relieved himself at one point. Horse manure is good for roses.

Anthea me Mrs Roberts and Harry Roberts

I am sure that had I stayed in Beverley I might well have been recruited to the Town Council. That is the way things are done there. Years ago Anthony Trollope found this to be the case and Dickens is said to have modelled the town of Eatanswill in “Pickwick Papers” on Beverley. What I did become whilst in Beverley was a Venture Scout Assistant County Commissioner. It came about when I was co-opted on to the committee of the venture scouts. One time I was ten minutes late for a meeting and discovered that the meeting was over. I waxed on a bit about this and said that if the meeting had only enough business to occupy ten minutes was it worth having a meeting at all? Then shortly after I myself took over the chair but the man who ran the venture scouts showed himself quite unfit. He just did not understand what scouting was about. The County Commissioner appointed me as Assistant County Commissioner but I only served for a short time because soon after I was promoted and posted to London.

Beverley people like to Summer you and Winter you before deciding whether or not to like you. Anthea never liked Beverley but she said that this was because she was ill most of the time. She was a Hampshire girl and I think compared with Hampshire people Yorkshire people seem very brusque. She said that after we left people there said some very nice things about us all which they had never said when we were there. I think that is typical of Yorkshire people.

I wrote in Chapter nine that my father came to live with us when we were in Worcester. He moved to Birkenhead with us and to Beverley. But things got too much for Anthea and her health had in any case deteriorated and so Dad had to go into a home. I felt very bad about this. So far as I personally am concerned, now I am aged 81 years of age I have no intention of living with either of my daughters and I am sure they will be relieved to know that! If sheltered accommodation is the future or a nursing home is the future then so be it. But things have a habit of sorting themselves out. I have taken (with Anthea’s help) the precaution of learning how to look after myself. I now manage very well with the aid of a weekly cleaner and frequent visits from Lizzie.

My father was in two local authority homes when we were in Beverley. The last one he was in was very nice and they looked after him well. Our bungalow was near to the hospital and dad took to cadging a lift to our house by telling drivers he wanted a lift to the hospital. Sadly my father died when we were in Beverley.

I had got to know many MAFF people when stationed at Beverley as I had been seconded several times to Region. I had also been elected to the Council of the Yorkshire Veterinary Society where a fellow member was Alf Wight, who later wrote under the pseudonym of James Herriot. So I knew him quite well and I knew even better Brian (Bruno) Sinclair who appears in the books as Tristram Farnon. Siegfried Farnon was Brian’s brother Donald but sadly I did not know Donald which was a pity as from the books he appeared quite a character. Also appearing in the books but under his own name was John Crooks of Beverley.

James Herriot pictured at the time I knew him

On 6^th November 1967 I reported to E R Corrigall RVO at the Foot and Mouth Disease Centre Oswestry. He took me aside and stressed how serious the outbreak of Foot and Mouth was likely to be. He was afterwards proved quite correct. It lasted for six months. It had started in a market at Oswestry and even worse than that it was in pigs. It was a recipe for disaster.

Foot & Mouth Disease

I stayed at Oswestry centre where we all worked long hours, sometimes starting early morning and going on almost to midnight. Then on 22^nd November I was posted to a smaller centre at Llangollen where H (Rex) Cremlyn-Hughes was the DVO in charge. I asked why I was being transferred and was told they wanted someone who was a sheep expert. I denied being a sheep expert but it did no good. “Rex” Cremlyn-Hughes got that nickname because of a strong resemblance to Rex Harrison the actor. He was also known as cream line Hughes which was very unfair. He was an excellent DVO and everything at Llangollen was very well organised.

On Friday 24^th November for example I arrived at a farm at 9.00am to do a diagnosis. By the time I left at 10.30pm the diagnosis had been made, put through to Tolworth valuers had arrived to do the valuation, followed by slaughter men then a man with a digger and I left leaving the livestock I had seen earlier alive and well, all buried beneath the soil. I was very impressed by the organisation shown at the centre. It was true that I also had worked hard and efficiently but without the centre’s backup it could not have been done. When I got back nobody thought that what I had done was in any way exceptional. That is the measure of Cremlyn-Hughes’ efficiency as the DVO in charge of the centre.

Harry Ritchie, a senior lecturer at Liverpool Veterinary School was not one who was aggrieved by my presence and showed me how he was recording the development of the lesions on the tongues of the infected animals. He was fine veterinary surgeon who afterwards did a lot of work on the use of pig valves for human patients. Anthea had a pig valve fitted. Another chap from Liverpool was Bill Faull. He was so good that he afterwards acted as the chief of the operations room.

But certain others made me less welcome and I was told that the centre had told me not to call onto their premises. That was quite wrong. I only went where I was told to go. In fact my attitude was to have a quick look round and if I thought everything was going well I went way unless the veterinary officer in charge had anything he wanted to know about. There were many things an officer needed to know which were not in any textbook. What animals should be killed first? Answer the bull. Because of his alpha position Bulls soon got very upset when other animals were being killed. Females never seemed to mind seeing animals killed. They did not appear to have any apprehension or fear. Digging burial pits and setting funeral pyres could also be tricky. Occasionally there were problems over valuations but we normally relied entirely on the valuers as we had no expertise. But for example a castrated bullock does not have any pedigree value.

After my four days a notice appeared “Would Mr Jackson, who reported to this centre four days ago kindly report to Mr Donald Hood DVO as Mr Hood would like to know what Mr Jackson looks like!” Donald Hood I had never met. He was DVO Leicester and he had been told I was to report to him as an assessor whose job was to look at dangerous contacts and decide what animals had to be killed and which could be left. So for two weeks or so I did that job for Donald who was a delightful man. I remember in particular a case involving the Duchess of Westminster’s herd. An outlying sheep had gone down with disease. The herdsman attending had scrupulously disinfected himself but the worry was had he taken the virus back to the other cattle he looked after. These were reported appeared healthy. I decided the risk was too great and had to justify this approach to her ladyship. She was very nice about it but I felt sorry for the man because I believed him when he said how careful he had disinfected himself.

Donald had a good sense of humour. We were suing at the time a substance called Foseco as an aid to the lighting of funeral pyres. “What’s that stuff called? Is it Fiasco?” But as usual I was taken away for other duties. Someone was required to look through the files of the first sixty outbreaks at the Chester Centre and see if there were any common denominators which might give an insight into how the disease had spread sp quickly.

The problem was that many of the early files were quite incomplete. They had not been complied by veterinary surgeons familiar with FMD requirements and forms were either not filled up at all or were filled up in a very cavalier fashion. The people concerned were not longer at the centre so mush information was irretrievably lost and I had to conjecture what it might have been.

On the map the pattern of outbreaks looked astonishingly like the pattern produced by a nuclear fallout with the epicentre at Oswestry. Another feature was the A41 road which passed near to many of the cases. We thought the milk Lorries might be the cause. The milk bulk tankers operate a system where they extract air from the milk tank all the time they are on the road. Milk is a very potent source of FMD virus. We got the Lorries to fit filters so as to remove any virus which might be excreted. But what is needed in FMD files is precise information as to where the affected cattle were? Were they grazing and if so where? What about visitors to the farm? This kind of information was missing which was very frustrating as it normally would be there if the forms had been completed by a whole time veterinary officer. But in the early days of the outbreaks much of the work was done by veterinary surgeons new to the business and nobody had time to oversee their work. The vets who had dealt with many of these early cases were usually long gone by the time I got to read the files.

I came to the conclusion that it was wind or air borne infection. Some 22 miles was the distance involved. Accepted wisdom was that wind borne infection only occurred at a distance of two miles. And that was all I was allowed to say in my report. As to the association with the A41 that was certainly a possibility but I favoured the air borne route of infection. When as was proved to happen, sand from the Sahara Desert was blown as far as England 22 miles for windblown virus was quite feasible it seemed to me.

There the matter rested until as always happens, years later the research epidemiologists took over and proved we were right. They pooh-poohed our work initially because all we did was to ask questions, right the answers down in a notebook and compare results drawing conclusions on the basis of probability. I was greatly helped in this work by my architect friend Raymond Binyon, with whom I was staying at the time. He produced overlays which graphically illustrated my results, even though my conclusions were not believed at the time.

In fact at Christmas 1967 my family joined me at the invitation of the Binyons. I fear I was poor company being very tired and wrapt up in my FMD work. When the children excitedly climbed into our bed on Christmas Day they got a poor response from me, In any case I was that very same day at work as usual and was present at a farm where FMD had been recently diagnosed (see above). I stayed with the Binyons until 25^th January 1968. That was the night of the Burn’s night supper. As many of the veterinary surgeons were Scotsmen it was quite a wild night. Someone put whiskey into the water jug which I was using to dilute my whiskey and I was overcome by a combination of the festivities, the knowledge that I was to be posted home the next day and the sabotaging of the water jug. I decided it was unwise for me to drive home and so spent the night fully dressed in the Peacock Hotel, Chester where a colleague had a room with a spare bed. Before getting to the Peacock I managed to walk into part of the Roman Wall which surrounds Chester so I had a black eye when I arrived home finally at Beverley to find Anthea giving tea to one of the St Mary’s curates.

After a break I returned to Chester Centre to advise on problems relating to the aftermath of the outbreak. We were having recrudescences. In other word there had been slip-ups with regard to the disinfection. That was not surprising considering the circumstances under which the original disinfection had been carried out. There were clear signs that this had often not been thorough enough. So ended for me the 1967-8 outbreaks, rather diminuendo than crescendo to use musical terms.

I soldiered on at Beverley until in 1971 I was promoted and sent to Tolworth the MAFF Head Office at that time.

MY STORY

CHAPTER SEVEN

EDINBURGH -SOCIAL

This is a short chapter as I was only in Edinburgh for two academic terms but a lot happened during that short time.

The students seconded from MAFF were Derek Buckner, Sandy Ross, John Ockey, Eddie Madden, I and Ian Adamson. Over the remaining three students “Bob” Stevenson was a Canadian (nicknamed Bob by Derek Buckner but in reality he was another Bill), Noel Allsup was a private student who had qualified at Edinburgh in 1960 and the ninth member was a Turk called Tufecki. We never discovered Tufecki’s forename.

This motley crew met for the first time in the Principal, Sir Alex Robertson’s office and eyed each other up. What had we let ourselves in for and were we all going to get on with each other? An older man rather glared at me. This was Derek Buckner who I knew was a close friend of Reg Thoumine a Worcester colleague. I introduced myself and with that connection, broke the ice. Derek and I remained close friends right up until the day he died.

The lectures were mostly based in Edinburgh itself and a fine lot they were. Over at Roslin the field station, Professor Gordon Ferguson taught animal health. Ferguson was an odd character and not universally popular with students although I personally got on with him very well. He was tragically killed some years later in a motorway lay-by. Motorway lay-bys are dangerous places. Ferguson was the only member of staff to invite us all to his home. I was surprised and saddened when Eddie Madden decided to use this social occasion to attack Ferguson about something which had happened during one of the lectures. Eddie was right to criticise the point, whatever it was and I cannot now remember what the problem was. But I felt that Ferguson’s home was not the place to tackle Ferguson about it.

Of the nine students Derek Buckner was the eldest and as I mentioned previously he had rather glared at me when we first met but we soon became very good friends indeed. Derek had qualified before the war. Born in India he and his elder brother both became veterinary surgeons. Derek was at school in England when he took his School Certificate. His subjects included Urdu. His Urdu paper had to be sent to India to be marked.

In the years immediately before 1939 times were very hard for a veterinary surgeon. Derek’s elder brother managed to establish himself in a small animal practice in Cheam, Surrey, but Derek himself had to take any job he could get. One job was as a lorry driver in London’s Docklands. That involved backing a lorry on to the deck of a lighter so as to unload the lorry’s contents by tipping it up. He said that was very scary. Once war came he volunteered for the RAF and became a flying instructor. He never actually went into combat. Derek was a natural teacher and a polymath by the time I knew him.

After the war he became an assistant in the practice of Pier H Blampied in Guernsey. Derek’s first marriage was when he was in the RAF. That failed and he married Betty by whom he had three daughters. It was when he was still in practice in Guernsey he had met Reg Thoumine who was a Guernsey man. Reg was a student with Derek. After Derek became disillusioned with practice he joined MAFF and was stationed at Winchester, Hampshire.

Of the other students Sandy Ross was a Scot and a very keen member of the Oxford movement of evangelical Christians. Sandy was a very kind man and a wonderful artist. John Ockey was the son of a Scotland Yard detective. Very tall he was stationed in Hereford which was next door to where I was stationed in Worcester. We had been together in a fowl pest centre in Worcestershire. Eddie Madden was younger than me. He had qualified at Glasgow in 1951 a year after Duncan McNicol my colleague at Birkenhead Port. Eddie and Duncan were friends. Eddie had a brilliant mind and a very good sense of humour. I remember we students had just watched an American film on bovine mastitis. The presenter of the film wore a terrible brown suit. He finished the film by summarising what he said were the five main points, ticking each off on his fingers. Eddie was sitting in front and as soon as our tutor was out of hearing he turned round, holding up both hands and one foot, and with a “psst” sound said urgently, “Derek, Derek, I have fifteen points to make”.

Ian Adamson was also younger than me. He was stationed in Hamilton and very nervous but he had no need to be for he was astonishing knowledgeable. The Canadian Bob Stevenson was actually Dr Bill Stevenson but had been named Bob by Derek and it stuck. Stevenson was a son of the veterinary surgeon who had founded the giant Canadian firm of Stevenson Turner and Boyce who sold veterinary pharmaceuticals. Noel Allsup was another evangelist. He had a colostomy bag fitted following an operation; I suspect the surgery was for a malignancy. Despite the colostomy bag he was a long distance runner. He never told anyone about the colostomy and no-one ever mentioned it in my hearing but with my keen sense of smell there was a slight distinctive odour which again I never mentioned. Noel was a very clever student. Of the last of the eight, the Turk, Tufecki we never knew what to make. Possibly due to a language difficulty the course appeared too much for him. He never confided in any of us so we never knew what problems he might have had.

I think it was towards the end of the year that we were all invited to the Dick Ball. Anthea came up for it and stayed in my room at the Kildary. At the Ball I wore my tails. That was the last time in my life I ever wore them. In my bachelor days in Derby I had had the suit made and bought the stiff shirt and the white vest. I think the outfit cost £50 which was a lot of money in those days. Terry Marshall my boss in the practice got one at the same time. In the suit I certainly looked like Fred Astaire. But it was a pity I didn’t dance like Fred Astaire. Ian Adamson’s wife was in an eightsome reel with us and someone criticised this Englishman for the way he was dancing in the middle. I did as I was taught in Mrs Forrest’s dance class in Derby. “He’s doing it right” said Mrs Betty Adamson, for which I was very grateful.

In the picture below left to right are Me Anthea, Betty Adamson and Ian Adamson.

Me, Anthea, Betty & Ian Adamson at the “Dick Ball”

It felt very strange to be with Anthea in Edinburgh, almost like an illicit weekend, although I have never had an illicit weekend with which to compare it. Betty Buckner came up from Hampshire and brought her youngest daughter Jenny. It was good to see them both. Jenny was probably about eight years old at the time but I may well be wrong about this.

Derek Buckner had a tape recorder, a Grundig. He used it to help him study, feeding stuff into it that he had to remember and then listening to it over and over again. He said it helped. Eddie Madden had a contact in Preston who sold Tape recorders he bought a machine for himself and through him John Ockey and me also bought a machine. It was a Phillips. I must say that I found it of little help with my studies but we were all rather panicking over them and the low marks we were scoring. But they were wonderful for playing music. Derek had Zoltan Kodaly’s Hary Janos Suite on tape and I loved to listen to that.

Further entertainment in Edinburgh came on Saturday nights when we all went to an Indian Restaurant. At that time there were very few Indian Restaurants in the UK. For example I knew of none in Liverpool. But there was one in Edinburgh and Derek Buckner it was who discovered it. Every Saturday night we went there. My glasses always steamed up when I entered. I usually had Bhuna Ghost. In January the DVSM Cass met for the first time the DTVM class. They were studying for the Diploma in Tropical Veterinary Medicine for which Edinburgh is famed. In fact both the DVSM and the DTVM are highly prised.

The DTVM students were of African Asian or Indian origin. For a while we did not mix. Then Derek said something to one of them in Urdu. The man addressed smiled broadly and from then on we all got on like a house on fire. The DTVM students used to join us on Saturday nights at the Indian Restaurant. I may say they were highly critical of the food. An Indian on the DTVM course said to me “This fellow (meaning the chef) would not last five minutes in India”. But it all tasted good to us and I found I preferred it to Chinese food which I had often eaten in Liverpool.

The Chinese restaurant in Liverpool had been started by Kwok Fong. He had run or worked in lighters on the Mersey taking provender out to the ships. He then went on to start the restaurant. Anthea and Winifride and perhaps also another medical student friend Doreen Jacob had delivered one of Kwok’s daughters or grand daughters and the three were always well received at Kwok’s.

Coming back to the DVSM Course one term of this was to be spent at a Veterinary Investigation Laboratory. Eddie Madden and Ian Adamson had been seconded to the Veterinary Laboratory, Eskgrove, Lasswade, Edinburgh which specialised in poultry research. Eddie asked if any of us would be interested in buying a turkey for Christmas. The lab at Lasswade carried out various tests and as good scientists they included control animals, or animals which had not been infected or otherwise involved in experiments. Several of us agreed to buy a turkey. Eddie said we were not to be surprised if the turkey control animals turned out to be very large. That was an understatement. Although somewhat chastened by poor exam results I drove home from Edinburgh that Christmas with an enormous turkey and also a Phillips tape recorder.

The turkey I arranged to have put into the deep freeze at Woodside. That later caused problems for when I went to get it out of the freezer no-one knew where the chap was who held the key. I was late getting it out and as it was a very large bird it needed about four days to thaw out sufficiently to allow it to be cooked. We were able to cook it despite its large size because we had an Aga cooker installed in our bungalow home on the Wirral. But I learned a valuable lesson in that various bits of the turkey were cooked before the bird had fully thawed out. They result was a certain amount of brownish yellow meat. But the rest of the turkey was fine and it was so large there was plenty left for us to eat.

During our Christmas party The Head Office Regional Veterinary Officer (RVO) who was in charge of staff chose to telephone me about my next posting. I had anticipated that MAF would not have spent good money on my DVSM Course if they had not intended me to be transferred back into the field. But the call came at a very bad time for me. John Pierce told me at length all about the place I was to go to, Beverley in the East Riding of Yorkshire. Under the circumstances I did not pay nearly enough attention to what he was saying. I really ought to have asked him to call at another time but in those days nobody would have dared to do that. I did not get the best out of that telephone call.

Anthea and I drove over a few days later to Beverley to meet the DVO, Peter Baird. It was obvious even at first sight that he a very nervous and impatient man. “Come on, come on” he would say to another driver who for some reason was a little slow. I now recognise in him the signs of hypertension. We had a meal or something in his house. Anthea and I were astonished when at one point he decided the fire needed fuel and he called out loudly to his wife “Coals for the fire, woman” on this summons his wife Betty dutifully trotted out with the coal scuttle. I realised I was with a male chauvinist par excellence in an English county famed for male chauvinism.

With his staff he proved later to be equally impolitic. He said to one Veterinary Officer “I want to be a father to you Frank”. The reply came at length. “Well I am older than you Mr Baird so it is a biological impossibility. Secondly I already have a father. Thirdly if I wanted another father Mr Baird I most certainly would not pick you”.

During a lengthy train journey he told another Veterinary Officer to go to the lavatory. She said “Well I am happy to take directions from you most of the time but I think I know better myself when to go or not to go to the lavatory.” All in all it was obvious from the start that things would be very different for me serving under this DVO. And so it proved. Baird had his good points too. His main problem was lack of self confidence which he covered up by aggressive behaviour and the other fault was his narrow intellect. He had been promoted, it was said, because his wife, the long suffering Betty, had nursed Lady Ritchie, wife of the MAFF Chief Veterinary Officer. Sir John Ritchie in any case was known to greatly favour Scotsmen. Englishmen looking for promotion would refer to it as “The Tartan Curtain”. It was an early form of Ethnic Cleansing.

MY STORY

CHAPTER 6

BIRKENHEAD (SOCIAL LIFE)

One of the reasons why I was attracted to Birkenhead was that Anthea had two sisters living in the Wirral, Paddy Smith and Bunny (Honor Mary) Neale. In fact these two were later joined by Berta and Wendy making all five Gillard sisters living on the Wirral. The Neales were building a bungalow and I do mean building for Walter Neale did it all himself. I thought it would be a good idea if I built a bungalow for with Anthea’s heart condition it would be much better for her not to have stairs to climb. But I was going to get people to build it for me. I would do the contracting. I found a plot which cost £1,200.00 which seemed such a lot of money that Birkenhead solicitor Barney Berkson, thought I was buying a completed bungalow rather than buying just a plot of land. It shows how prices have gone up since 1959.

Walter had become friendly with Sid Gower the building inspector for Wallasey and suggested Sid design a bungalow for me. However I did not like Sid’s design. I thought it lacked flair. The Goulds, a couple who owned a plot opposite to our site, were having a house designed by an architectural student. I asked him to design one for me. He did not have the time to do this but introduced me to Raymond Binyon ARIBA who was working for Wallasey at that time. Ray and I remain friends to this day some 47 years’ later. Ray told me that ARIBA stands for “Always Remember I’m the Bloody Architect”.

I well remember my first meeting with Ray and Elsie his wife. They lived then in a house at Bromborough. Ray was not home when I first arrived. I saw a pram in the hall and enquired if they had a baby. “No” said Elsie “We are expecting a baby in a few days time”. I looked at her and it was obvious she was not pregnant. She laughed and said they were adopting. Ray turned up soon after and asked me all about myself and family. The design he later produced reflected all that I had told him. I was amazed at how appropriate the design turned out. It was without doubt the best house we would ever have.

My address on Ray’s drawing was given as 4 Heygarth Drive, Greasby, Wirral because I lodged for about six months with Anthea’s sister Paddy Smith and her husband Jack Smith and their children Mary and John. Anthea stayed at home in Worcester with Elizabeth and Anne. I travelled between Birkenhead and Worcester every weekend during all these six months. After that we secured a six month’s lease on a furnished flat in Hoylake. Would you believe it once we were installed in the Hoylake flat MAFF immediately sent me on an extended visit to Worcester on Fowl Pest Duty? so I was still motoring between Birkenhead and Worcester each weekend but starting from different ends.

West elevation

As I wrote Ray produced a very satisfactory design for a four bed roomed self-build bungalow with a kitchen/dining room, utility room, a study, a lounge and a playroom. The building was in two parts. We proceeded to get this built with the help of the Wallasey Building Inspector Sid Gower acting as overseer and recruiting people to dig out the foundations and do the brickwork and the joinery. Things went wrong right away. The site sloped quite a lot. Sid insisted digging down much deeper than called for by the plan. Ray was dismayed when he saw what had happened but it was too late by then. He had expected the site to be dug down to about half the level and the surplus soil disposed of. Ray was not hired to supervise but did some supervision anyway. When I was sent away yet again on FMD duty he gave Anthea splendid support. At one stage the bricklayers had run out of bricks and the brickworks could not deliver the bricks which were called “City Facings” for six weeks. Ray got the brickies to just mix up what they had with some similar bricks.

East elevation

I learned a few things myself. I discovered it was of no use asking bricklayers to think ahead. The building material suppliers were always closed at weekends. If you wanted something delivered before the weekend you had to get the order in by Thursday noon at the latest. So I used to go round on Thursday mornings and ask them if they had everything they needed. Almost invariably they said they did not need anything. Then I would check visually that they had a sufficiency of such items as sand, cement and mortar. Very often they had not!

Another problem was with the cills and lintels which were of pre-cast concrete. Their delivery was much delayed as was the delivery of the window frames. The two firms concerned claimed they had not been told delivery was needed by any particular date. Had I to do it again the orders would be in writing. But then other problems would arise. The windows when they did arrive were not to Ray’s specification in that they could not take double glazing. But in the end we did just as well with plate glass as there was a lot of solar gain. In other words a lot of heat came in from the sun and stayed in the building.

Heating was by warm air ducted through floor channels. The tunnels for these were all over the building. As a result of the delays building went into winter and wet weather. I was worried about this as the channels were cork lined. We bailed the water out and kept bailing but it all dried out in the end. Ray had specified a waterproof membrane throughout the building. Sid questioned the need for this. He had never known this done he said. Ray eventually exploded and said that the membrane was as essential as the roof. Several other innovations were questioned by Sid. One was the roof. The roof was of “Stramit Board”. This was compressed straw board and an excellent insulation. The roof was flat for part of the building and sloped for the main section but not tiled. It was finished by three layers of felt all bonded together. Plastic guttering and down pipes also offended Sid because he said they were of untried material. There is nothing so traditional and conservative as a building inspector.

Elizabeth became old enough for school and secured a place at Birkenhead Girls Public Day School junior school. She wore the uniform and a black hat with a cockade. Miss Tregenza was her teacher and Miss Winter the headmistress. Lizzie went unwillingly to school. Miss Tregenza used to attract her attention with something and signal us to disappear. About a year later Anne also sat the entrance exam. I think Anne was only four at the time. “I got all the answers right” she said as she came out. She probably did too because Miss Winter asked us straight away when did we want her to start. One day Princess Alice visited the school and there was a picture of her with Lizzie. Miss Winter gave up wearing her gown in the junior school after Anne was heard loudly asking “Why is that lady wearing a nightgown?”

Anthea had been taken ill when we were at Hoylake and had to go by ambulance into Clatterbridge Hospital and stay in the hospital for a time. I explained all this to the girls. They said “We know, we were listening at the door”. The illness underlined the need for a bungalow for Anthea. Before we were married she had had an operation on the mitral valve to enlarge the opening. That had worked quite well but she had to take care of herself. She was very good at that, watching her diet, taking walking exercise. All her life she was a model patient.

I enjoyed my six months stay with Paddy Smith. Mary her daughter came to me one day for advice. She was working at the time at the local Co-op shop. She was at a dancing class and had been offered a job in a Summer Show at Rhyl. She told me she hated the job at the shop and that she was to be paid by the theatre almost twice was she was earning at the shop. She loved dancing. I said she ought to give it a go. I don’t think Paddy has ever quite forgiven me but it launched Mary on a theatrical career and for many years Mary was never out of work. Occasionally during “resting” periods when there was no theatrical or circus work because she was very pretty she worked at a beauty counter in stores such as Harrods. I had told 16 year old Mary that there were many wicked people in the theatre but there were many wicked people everywhere. All she had to do was to be careful and look after herself. We saw the show at Rhyl. After the show Mary outside the theatre with a glass of white wine in her hand. To my astonishment Anthea took the glass and emptied it handing it back without a word. I was not asked for my opinion but I thought it was a bit high handed of Anthea but it was all probably for the best.

I did not have so much to do with John save that as his father Jack refused to go to the school open day at Caldy Grammar School I went with Paddy. John was doing well there but afterwards rather fell by the wayside. His father’s support was needed I feared and I do not think John got it. John was subsequently married at an early age and that marriage and a number of subsequent marriages failed. John is now living in the USA. Mary was also married and had a lovely daughter called Catriona. Mary was killed on a bicycle accident when she was hit by a lorry in Ealing. She was then about 50 years old.

Of my two brothers-in-law I much prefer Walter Neale. Walter Worthington Neale had a number of talents. Walter’s parents had owned an antique business run from a large house in Grange Road Birkenhead.In working for them Walter became very skilled at repairing furniture. I think his parents rather patronised him. I never met them but according to Anthea the parents always called Walter, “Sonny”. Walter was a good violinist, much more skilful than I ever was. He played regularly in a well known Liverpool orchestra, “The David Lewis Orchestra”. Walter was also an expert motorcyclist who regularly won scramble races.

When I first knew him Walter had a clock making and repair business and also did jewellery repairs. The shop was on Grange Road Birkenhead. He gave that up when he moved into his new bungalow at Upton Wirral. This new bungalow was situated in a fairly rural spot at the time. With Walter I once saw some cow dung on the road. “That only serves to emphasise the truly rural situation” said Walter. He then until he finally retired became an instrument maker working on secretive work at Capenhurst and afterwards for Liverpool University. I discovered years later that Capenhurst was concerned with the processing of radioactive material.

My other brother-in law, Jack Smith, Paddy’s husband, is a different kettle of fish. He is a fantasist and claimed at various times to have been in the Army (commandos of course), the Royal Navy and the Royal Air Force. He had been in submarines he said and had also piloted bombers. I know he had been in the police force because he had been booted out of that early in the war and told he had to join up or go to gaol. Paddy had problems with her father who had old-fashioned ideas on how a daughter ought to behave. With some reservations he gave his permission for Paddy to marry Jack. This was required as Paddy was under-age. Paddy had claimed she was pregnant. But her first baby did not appear until two years later. Paddy was conscience stricken about that. I never met Anthea, Paddy, Berta, Wendy and Bunny’s father but Walter told me he could be very difficult.

After the war Jack Smith claimed to have all sorts of skills. He was an expert on TV he said and an electrician. On the strength of this he got a job as an electrician on Cadbury’s night shift. He was doing that when I was staying in their house. If it was a warm night the chocolate would not set and so then Jack came home and put his feet up. He was good at that sort of thing. All went well at Cadbury’s until one night he fused all the electricity and was given the sack. Eventually the Smiths split up. Jack is still alive and in his nineties. The last time I saw him was at Mary’s funeral. This was a spiritualist funeral. Jack was evidently into that. The spiritualists had an office in Belgrave Square next to where the RCVS HQ was for a time. Looking through the spiritualist’s window I used to see telephones. I thought it betrayed a certain lack of confidence in their ability to communicate.

Another thing that happened when I was with Paddy is that Paddy managed to get her sister Berta out of the Berkshire mental hospital where she had been for many years. We were always told Berta had been committed but Paddy found out Berta was a voluntary patient, got her out there and then and brought her home. Berta had no shoes to wear so Paddy put her own shoes on her for the trip home. Berta recovered slowly and was able to get a job, then a flat of her own and finally a small house in Hoylake where she stayed until she died in 2006. At one time Berta was being evicted from her rented flat for non payment of rent. She told me a very garbled story about items which would soon go into her account which would enable her to pay the landlord. It sounded fishy to me but I knew Berta was telling the truth so I went to the landlady and after some time convinced her that Berta was OK as a tenant. I in fact paid three months rent there and then. Berta later paid me back every penny on the nail as I knew she would.

Berta’s house in Hoylake came about by the good offices of a solicitor friend, Arthur Shearer. Kath and Arthur Shearer’s daughter Alison was in Lizzie’s class at Birkenhead Girls’ High School. Arthur found this very small cottage and got it for Berta. The Shearer’s became good friends over the years. After both Kath and Arthur had died Alison lost touch with us. She and Lizzie never got on. It was Arthur who suggested I ought to read for the bar “or at least eat your dinners” this was a reference to the requirement of all bar students to eat at least three dinners in hall for a number of terms, I think twelve terms. This was difficult and expensive to do for anyone living in the provinces. But I afterwards did that when stationed for six years in London and also attended classes and was called to the bar in 1975 by Lord Hailsham.

Trearddur Bay Anglesey

To come back to the 1960’s Ray Binyon’s in-laws had bought a flat in Trearddur Bay Anglesey. Ray and Elsie invited us for a weekend. It was the first of many visits to this delightful area. I was at first reluctant to accept Ray’s invitation. But he pointed out with truth, that it was no use having a place if it was not possible to enjoy it with friends. By this time we had both built a boat. We each bought a Heron sailing dinghy kit. I no sooner got this kit I was sent away for FMD duty. Ray meanwhile had built his boat from an identical kit. On my return home we two put my boat together. By this time of course he knew where all the bits fitted. We both now had boats and we both needed a trailer. At the lairage there was someone who knew where we could buy an axel and wheels. Both Ray and I both bought such an axel. Using mine I built a trailer without cutting the axel into two parts. My boat was thus effectively sprung rather than the trailer itself being sprung. Ray built his trailer in a more conventional manner cutting the axle into two and attaching the springs to the cut ends of the axle. He was scornful of my design effort. I dismissed his trailer as being a good engineering job but no more than that. On this first visit to Treardhur we set off for Anglesey. Two of us in the car with two small children and a boat in tow.

Somewhere in Snowdonia a trailer wheel collapsed. It was failure of a bearing. The wheel would just turn and no more and we limped to Trearddur arriving as I remember after 11.00pm. Ray was I think pleased rather than otherwise by our delayed arrival. “I knew it, I knew it” he kept repeating. “I knew that that trailer would let you down”. In the morning I managed to buy a new wheel from Mr A H Peters who had a garage in Trearddur. I kept on insisting it was the wheel which had let us down, not the trailer. I got my revenge years later in France. The “good engineering job” had been sold to a friend of mine. As I mistakenly and secretly thought Ray’s was the better trailer, I had borrowed it for our trip to France only to have it break down on the way back from Brittany. A U bolt had collapsed. I sketched out what I wanted and a French garage owner, a Monsieur Giles, made it up for me.

Going back to our first visit to Anglesey the approach to Trearddur Bay is magical. The drive takes you across an area called the inland sea the part marked “four mile bridge” on the map. Once at the flat the view from the lounge window is breathtaking. It is a panorama of the whole of the Bay with the Lleyn peninsular in the distance. There are no buildings in front of the flat, just the rugged coast. It looks good even without a gin and tonic in your hand.

In Birkenhead our domestic life continued. Berta conceived the idea of getting a car and my dad gave her driving lessons. Berta’s car never materialised. Dad had given lessons many times in the past to purchasers of his cars. Dad also became a member of the British Legion on the strength of one day spent with the colours during WW1 as part of Lord Derby’s 1916 scheme (Lord Derby was the friend of Lloyd George if you remember). Dad got thrown out of the Upton public library for arguing politics with someone or at any rate for talking in a prohibited area.

Anthea did stints at her old hospital, Mill Road Maternity Hospital. I used to drive her through the Mersey Tunnel returning later to pick her up. Anthea would never leave a patient who needed her. One night I sat in my car for well over an hour with the light on reading and waiting for her. She had been due to come off duty for well over an hour when I heard someone asking “Who is that man sitting reading in that car? He has been there for hours.” “Don’t worry about him,” came the answer, “He is only Sister Gillard’s husband”. It made me realise how wrong it is to expect our wives to surrender their identity after they are married. We husbands do it without much thought. Nowadays of course that doesn’t happen so often. Cheri Booth stays as Cheri Booth and does not become Mrs Tony Blair. However the dragonish Mrs Margaret Thatcher was never given her correct title of Mrs Denis Thatcher!

Anthea had qualified as a midwife before she was 21 and she had to wait until her birthday before she could have the qualification. She told a number of stories about her work on the district as a pupil midwife. She was under the supervision of Sister Fowkes, old Fanny Fowkes who was a bit of a tyrant but Anthea liked her and got on well with her. Sister McCartney she also spoke well of. Sister McCartney was also one of her supervisors and also was the mother of Paul McCartney of the Beetles. By the time we had arrived in Birkenhead the Beetles were already famous although I confess at that time I had never heard of them.

One night when Anthea was on duty she was woken by a chinese man who summoned her by signs to attend his wife. She gave him the gas and air machine to carry through the streets. Liverpool was and is a pretty lawless place but nobody in those days attacked midwives going about their business. The man eventually got Anthea to the foot of a ladder and motioned for her to climb up it which she did, not without some fear. In the room was the man’s wife and Anthea delivered a baby. She afterwards thought that the man had probably no right to have a wife in that room hence the need for the ladder approach.

Anthea, before we married had done long spells of night duty as a midwifery sister and ever afterwards put down her mitral stenosis to that cause. The medical superintendent Dr Macfarlane, misdiagnosed the problem and Anthea nearly died. But thanks to the intervention of Dr Clark, afterwards Sir Cyril Astley Clark, she got slowly better but only after six month’s bed rest. Just before we married she had the first of three heart operations, finger splitting of the valve by Mr Ronald Edwards at Broadgreen Hospital. Ronnie Edwards was the son of a veterinary surgeon. Sir Cyril Astley Clark eventually became President of the Royal College of Physicians.

Elizabeth became old enough for school and secured a place at Birkenhead Girls Public Day School junior school. She wore the uniform and a black hat with a cockade. Miss Tregenza was her teacher and Miss Winter the headmistress. Lizzie went unwillingly to school. Miss Tregenza used to attract her attention with something and signal us to disappear. About a year later Anne also sat the entrance exam. I think Anne was only four at the time. “I got all the answers right” she said as she came out. She probably did too because Miss Winter asked us straight away when did we want her to start. One day Princess Alice visited the school and there was a picture of her with Lizzie. Miss Winter gave up wearing her gown in the junior school after Anne was heard loudly asking “Why is that lady wearing a nightgown?”

When Anne was about four years old we went one day to New Brighton Walking on the shore beside the lighthouse clouds were scudding by overhead. When you looked up at the lighthouse it really appeared as if the building was moving and not the clouds. The lighthouse seemed about to topple over on to us. Anne immediately grabbed my arm and tried to pull me away. I was very touched. Much later Anne, who had been increasingly suffering Ear Nose and Throat problems, was taken to an ENT consultant at a New Brighton clinic for removal of her tonsils and adenoids. Anthea knew what that entailed as she had nursed many children post operatively after T&A removals. Children are always told they can have as much ice-cream as they like afterwards. They are not told that their throat will feel as if it is full of barbed wire and eating ice-cream will be out of the question for quite a long time.

Before leaving Anne at the clinic we took her and Lizzie to the New Brighton funfair. Anne later said she knew something was up because quite out of character I let her go on anything she wished. After the operation she was very sore and could eat nothing. Her tummy rumbled due to lack of food and Anthea massaged it to take away the wind.

On my own initiative and without telling Anthea I had bought a caravan with the idea that we could live in it on the building site. But unfortunately as the building was so delayed we found ourselves still without a house in the depths of winter. That is why we took a lease on the flat in Hoylake. But we afterwards had marvellous trips in the caravan visiting Cornwall, the Lake District, John O’Groats, the New Forest, London (staying at the Crystal Place site), and Rhyl. This latter was so near we went a number of times. It was very economical and with two sets of school fees that was important. One weekend only cost a total of £5.00 and that included petrol, site fees and food.

The trip to John O’Groats was to see Andy Skea who had been promoted DVO and was now DVO Wick. The Skeas were living in a rented manse in a very windy location. When we were there the fitted carpets were continually being raised by the wind outside. Andy said this was normal. The trip up to Wick involved tackling the fearsome Devil’s Elbow. I think my car clutch may have been damaged by the sharp steep hairpin bend we had to negotiate.

The family had been enlarged by the advent of a Jack Russell called Rusty. The roads in the north of Scotland are very narrow making caravanning difficult Passing places are provided but at very lengthy intervals. We had stopped for lunch and a few miles further on I realised that Rusty was not in the car. It was a long time before I was able to turn the car and caravan round and make out way to where we had stopped. Rusty was there waiting for us! He had waited for about two hours.

During Worcester days I had become friendly with a 14 year old Scout, Dominique Jacob from Paris. He was an exchange student with Nigel Clemens one of my scouts. Dominique wrote to me to ask if I could find him a job on a farm. I wrote back that we had built a new bungalow and had lots of decorating to do. If he liked to spend six weeks with us he would be very useful. He was indeed a great help but Anthea had the habit of throwing down the bed sheets on to the floor when she changed the beds. Dominique thought these were decorating sheets. Thus some of them became liberally spotted with various shades of vinyl paint. We never told Dominique.

We wanted to set off on a fortnight’s caravan holiday to the Lake District. Dominique at first refused to come with us saying he was there to work not on holiday but was persuaded to come on holiday with us. I made up a bunk in the caravan to allow us to sleep five and we set off for the Lakes. Dominique loves mountains and in fact finally settled in the Pyrenees Atlantiques where for many years he was in veterinary practice. But coming back to the now 15 year old scout au pair we climbed Scafell Pike together at one time. I still suffered from Vertigo and gibed at the final bit of the climb. Dominique said it was ridiculous to have climbed so far and then fail to get to the summit. So I was shamed into taking a chance and reached the summit of the highest mountain in England.

Our social life in Birkenhead was excellent. The best thing was the children’s parties. The earliest such was organised by Lizzie but she only knew the names of the invitees. When the day arrived I went down unexpectedly with rigors and a temperature of 104^oF. We were unable to cancel the party because Lizzie did not know the full names of the invitees. Our November 5^th Bonfire night parties were always good. Ray Binyon came with his two children for at least two of these. I discovered he was very wary of fireworks and I think he we right to be so.

Towards the end of our time in Birkenhead a parent whose daughter was at school with Lizzie brought along to our bonfire party a set of lifeboat distress rockets. These were spectacular but of course quite illegal. It was foolish to let them off because we could have called out the lifeboat on a search although as we were inland perhaps it did not matter. I still think we might have been prosecuted and it was foolish of that parent. He was wealthy and owned a thriving joinery business run with the aid of his very attractive wife. They were a lovely family. But the husband played away and one night the wife took a knife and stabbed him to death whist he lay in bed. It was a tragedy and I felt very sorry for the family.

A school friend of Anne’s called Ann Reynolds lived nearby. Ann had a brother, David. When David was born Jean Reynolds his mother had been obliged to travel to Yorkshire because Jean’s husband Mike was a keen cricketer and wanted his boy to be able to play for Yorkshire. At that time all Yorkshire players had to have been born in Yorkshire. I think Jean made it as far as Pontefract. It was Jean who had got us Rusty but to my sorrow Rusty had his tail docked before I was able to stop it. “I thought they all had to have their tails docked” said Jean. The Reynolds boarded out their pet rabbit with us. I tried to sex this rabbit but obviously failed because “sugar” later gave birth to a litter or whatever a family of little rabbits is called.

CHAPTER THREE

HENRY MELLISH COUNTY SECONDARY (Grammar) SCHOOL

The school

The scholarship I had won was to allow me to attend free of charge what was then called a Secondary School. The school was Nottingham Education Committee’s school, High Pavement, situated in Nottingham City. High Pavement now has an infamous old boy, Dr Harold Shipman. But my father noted that there was a secondary school in Bulwell called Henry Mellish which had playing fields adjacent to the school buildings. Furthermore the school was nearer to my home. Not only was High Pavement further away but its playing fields were not adjacent to the school. The only snag was that Henry Mellish was under the control of Nottinghamshire County Education Committee so I would have to be a fee payer. The total fees for the year were I think £14.10s.0d (£14.50). At the start of every term we had to call out in what capacity we were attending, fee payer, scholarship or Governors’ Special Place. I always thought that to be called a fee payer was to be classed as a thickie, perhaps this was a possibility when the boy lived in the county but to anyone who would listen I loudly said that despite being a fee payer I had passed the scholarship. No-one really cared of course.

Me in the front row immediately above the “H” in “Henry”
4th on my left is P J Ebling and 6th on my right is my cousin C G Green
The Headmaster is 2 rows above the “H” in “Mellish” & the “S” in school
On the Head’s left is “Froggie” Smith and G E Goodall is two to his right
6th to his right is R R S Bennett

Henry Mellish County Secondary School was founded in the late1920’s. In 1920 the Bulwell site of 9.32 acres had been purchased from the Duke of Newcastle at am overall cost of about £6,000. The school was opened in the autumn term of 1929. The first head was a Mr A O Balk whom I never met. Mr Houston was the head I knew. The school was named after Lieutenant-Colonel Henry Mellish CB DL who had been chairman of the Nottinghamshire Education Committee. There was a picture of him in the headmaster’s study. It showed him shotgun under arm, on a grouse moor. Mellish was educated at Eton and Balliol College, Oxford where he obtained a First Class in Mathematics in Moderations and a First Class in Science in Honours. He was a member of the Bisley Committee of the National Rifle Association and was one of the best rifle shots in the world. He died in 1927 two years before the school which he nurtured during many years in the service of Nottinghamshire Education Committee.

Lieutenant-Colonel Henry Mellish

Governors were remote people in those days; they were never seen even on speech days. Their word was law. No question of democracy. It seemed to work well though. Parent governors were the thing of a remote future.
The day invariably started with Assembly. From our form rooms we went in procession to the School Hall where daily prayers were held. We sang from the Public School Hymn Book. I still love those hymns, especially “All saints who from their labours rest” which we always sang on the last day of term. It seemed to me that everybody attended prayers but perhaps there were Jewish boys who were excused. If there were Jewish boys in our form I did not notice them. There were certainly no Muslims or Sikhs at the school.
Whenever G E Goodall who taught mathematics happened to be in charge of our form, before we were allowed to troop into Assembly we were inspected to see if we had cleaned our teeth that morning and cleaned our shoes. C lean shoes for him were a true sign of inward grace Good manners were to him even more important than Pythagoras. He was perhaps at his most eloquent on the subject of The Minor Prophets. He was a great influence for good on us all and especially me. When teaching maths he used to say “I don’t want your best I want what’s reet (right)”. Another habit of his was to ask a boy if he was “Not dead yet?”

Morning Assembly

The masters all wore gowns. Most had been to Cambridge. All were male in 1936 when I joined form IB. Our form teacher an Ulsterman called Mr Connors. Sadly he was called up in 1939 and soon afterwards was killed. I remember Froggie Marshall and Froggie Smith. All French masters were called Froggie. Of my schoolmates I only remember a few. Pollard, whose father had a lace factory, my close friend Peter (Ebling) who lived in Mapperley, and Northfield whom I admired for his athletic prowess.

Peter Ebling in school blazer but without the regulation cap and house tie
We wore school blazers and white shirts always with a house tie. I was in Blue House. There were a number of school rules. No running in corridors. House shoes to be worn whenever we were indoors. These superficially looked like ordinary black shoes but were of the soft elastic sided type. They were to protect the plaster on the walls. No fountain pens were allowed, we must not walk with hands in our trouser pockets. Shorts were worn in forms I and II, longs after that. School caps must be worn when out of school even during holiday times. If you were seen cap-less during the holidays nothing would happen but you would be told off. Henry Mellish colours were on everything save our underwear. We had gym kits, rugby kits, cricket kits and a swimming costume (not trunks!) all with school colours and all from Griffin and Spalding, Long Row, Nottingham. It is interesting that what I afterwards recognised as the middle classes all played rugby at school rather than soccer. A few schools exceptionally played soccer but not many. The result is that in England soccer is supported by the middle class but not played by them. It results in a reduction in the pool of talent available to the England selectors. Soccer players and also managers tend to come from the working class. Now known as Chavs! This is in contrast to continental countries whose players and managers are recruited from all classes.
Discipline at Henry Mellish was maintained by a number of punishments, Written Lines, Saturday Morning Detentions and exceptionally, the Cane. This latter was always administered by the Head. Prefects could also punish. Prefects were very grand people. They were allowed a special cap and the Head Prefect had a tassel in the school colours. At first I confused the word “prefect” with the word, “perfect” and hence regarded them with more respect than they deserved. I never had the cane or a “Saturday Morning” even though I earned them!

Dining Hall

A big change for me was the school dinners. A two course hot meal was provided at a cost to the parent, or boys could take sandwiches. But my parents would not allow sandwiches and I think they were right. Cooked food is better and it is also good to eat with other people. Table manners are learnt by example. I was always hungry and at first rushed to eat my food. I was told off by a boy about this. He pointed out that the others always waited until the salt and pepper were to hand before wading in. I think the food on the whole was excellent. I retain a liking for school food to this day.

Scrooge and Bob Crachit

Lunch was always served by the school caretaker whose wrinkled face and constant severe expression had earned him the nickname “Scrooge” (A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens). Even the masters called him that rather than calling him by his proper name of Mr Wilson. It was Scrooge who, serving ladle in hand, standing at the entrance to the kitchen, always gave the signal for the serving ritual to start. Then each table in turn went up and queued to be served by the kitchen staff including Mrs Wilson who was a very nice woman. Scrooge himself always served and it was he who signalled when second helpings were available which occasionally they were. Boys are always hungry. In the six years I knew him I never once saw Scrooge smile, let along laugh.

Geoff Green and Hilda at their wedding

My first cousin Geoffrey Green from Gedling a few miles away joined the school at the same time as I did. He was in form IC. I tried and perhaps he also tried to get into the A form stream but neither of us got anywhere. The A forms did Latin and I think, French, we in the B forms did French and German. I don’t think the C form did French but I am not sure about that. Surely they would need a foreign language for the School Certificate? But one boy said to me “what’s the use of learning French? I’ll never go to France.” I pointed out to him that there had recently seen a school trip to Rouen but he remained unconvinced. Little did I know at that time how much time I was to spend in France.
We progressed up the school gradually acquiring new privileges. About form IV we were allowed to put our hands in our pockets when walking and to use fountain pens. Two years on form VI was permitted to wear the school tie and most were appointed sub-prefects but I was not one of them.
I was only to spend two terms in the lower sixth form. Interviewed in 1964 the Headmaster said that in his time at the school (1935-640 the greatest change had been in the growth of the sixth form. The strongest reason for a school of this type is the sixth form where, I think more is done for boys than at any other stage in the school Pupils are becoming young men and mature people and they begin to organise their own work and their own activities. During my brief spell I did biology and chemistry. The biology mistress was Betsy Norman who had been a medical student at Edinburgh but never qualified. She had an unfortunately exaggerated idea that the veterinary course was easier than the medical course. In reality they are much the same standard. Her husband was an RAF Group Captain.

The metalwork master was a Mr Pomfret. He took us for religious knowledge. He was not very good at that so taught us a few political truths. He did not indoctrinate us in any way but rather enlightened us to the political realities. His way was to initiate a general discussion avoiding giving his own opinion until the very last. He had been a machine gunner during the First World War. We thought that must have been awful but he said they were mostly firing at unseen targets.
By early 1939 things in the country had got into in a rather poor state. It was obvious that Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain was to be replaced. Mr Pomfret asked us each in turn who we thought would be the replacement. I think I said Lord Halifax. All round the class people gave different answers but nobody mentioned Mr Churchill but after we had all had our say Mr Pomfret said he thought it might be Mr Churchill. We were amazed. Who was Mr Churchill? Mr Pomfret also enlightened us on things like the Thermite bomb which would be used to great effect by the Luftwaffe in incendiary bombs. We did not learn a lot of theology from Mr Pomfret but his lessons were very valuable.
One master had a profound effect on us all. This was George Ernest Goodall, GEG to us. I have already written about him above. He too had been in the First World War as a private I think. Before coming to Henry Mellish he had been a schoolmaster at an Elementary School which is where those who had either not passed the scholarship or who had rejected it went. He was a maths teacher and very fierce. Nobody dared not do all of their maths homework. We were expected to do our maths prep in 20 minutes. We had two other subjects each night making a total of one hour’s work. I took at least three hours to do my homework. If your maths homework was only partly done his response was “double it” in other words do two problems in place of the one missed. I used to sit up very late sometimes doing my homework. My father was marvellous. The radio would be switched off whilst I was working. In the winter there was only one room which had a fire so that meant only one room was in use. My bedroom was far too cold to work in. Combination of my fear of GEG and the diligence with which I pursued my homework meant I became very good at Maths and eventually was awarded a distinction in the School Certificate Examination which I took at age 15. It was all due to GEG.
We did geometry theorems on the blackboard and GEG would ask if that was the shortest way to prove that theorem. Twice I went up to the blackboard and solved the theorem with one less step. An exasperated GEG said “Jackson, you like pulling rabbits out of hats don’t you?” It was true, I did!

The prophet Hosea

GEG was a biblical scholar and an expert on the prophet Hosea who I am ashamed to say I have never read. A leading freemason GEG was Chairman of Hucknall County Council. He lived at 22 Derbyshire Lane, Hucknall, and an address indelibly in my mind. He was very enthusiastic about another Bulwell boy, Raymond Foster who went into the Anglican Church and got a Bachelor of Divinity degree (BDiv) from Durham. “They don’t grow on trees” said GEG (referring to the BDiv). I do not know why Raymond became an Anglican for everybody in Bulwell appeared to be a Methodist, but who am I to talk? Older than me by several years Raymond did very well and eventually became an Archdeacon in New Zealand where he was very popular. Years later I had lunch with his widow, Myrtle. She showed me a beer mat for Foster’s Lager which had been adapted to show Raymond’s head on it. I am proud of my slight acquaintance with no less a personage than an Archdeacon. His father, Sam Foster, was a friend of my father. The Fosters had a decorating business a few yards away from our house.
At Henry Mellish annual camps were held. I went to two of these, both in Derbyshire, held respectively at Hulme End and Hartington. We were in bell tents. My mother equipped me with a kit bag with lock, a sleeping bag and numerous other things in preparation for the camp. I enjoyed the camps greatly. A favourite activity was the damming of a stream, swimming in the pool thus created and floating on it various rafts. After breakfast, cooked and served by Scrooge we were free to stay in camp or go for a walk. Scrooge had his own tent and Methodist as I was I was horrified to see crates of beer in there. I think it was only one crate and we were there for a week, but oh! The depravity!
I remember remarking to one boy that the rice pudding they served at camp breakfasts wasn’t bad once you got used to it. “Rice pudding?” he said, “that was porridge”. I had never had porridge before. We were set chores every day. Once we were buttering bread and one boy asked “Who has buttered this bread?” “I did,” I replied. “Well who has scraped the butter off? He asked.” I was brought up to be frugal.
I loved the walks, some with a master leading and some on my own. The Dove and Manifold valleys were favourite places. I began a liking for exploration and map reading which has never left me. On the last walk of the camps the master leading that walk used to issue bars of chocolate. It was only one bar but that was attraction enough! He always got a good turnout.

War

A HITLER

Next time no more “Mr Nice Guy”

In 1939 it was obvious to me a boy aged 12, that Hitler had to be stopped. It is hard to justify any war, for wars, as my father said, never solve anything. My father could remember the terrible effects of the Great War 1014-1918. But in 1939 I was convinced our actual physical survival depended on fighting Hitler. I said as much to my Sunday School Teacher as on 3rd September 1939 we awaited the 11.00am broadcast by the Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain. The Sunday School Teacher was appalled at my view of the situation. He too would be remembering the 1914-18 war in which two of my uncles served in France, the diminutive Samuel Richard Martin in the Bantam Regiment and William Albert Martin. When Chamberlain announced we were at war I had already seen it was inevitable.

Chamberlain, just back from Munich

Churchill, he loved to pose!

There were many repercussions due to the war at school. We all had to carry gasmasks everywhere. At first these were kept in the cardboard box in which they were issued. The advice given by the government (The government advised on everything in great detail) was to bore two small holes in the box and thread a piece of string knotted inside so as to make a handle to enable the box to be suspended from our shoulder. But soon gas mask cases were on the market.
We were drilled as to how when and where to take shelter against air raids. Shelters were built in the school grounds. A nearby cellar in a neighbouring institution was also utilised. At home we had a shelter built in the back yard. And many a night I spent in that doing my homework by the aid of an electric torch. Just before the war there were a number of private air raid shelters on the market, many quite elaborate. I used to ask the salesman if their model was bomb proof. The answer was always the same, “It will survive anything save a direct hit”.
Soon everything was in short supply, especially number eight batteries. These were the most popular size for hand held torches. Blackout was strictly enforced. I helped make shutters for our windows and in front of these we put sandbags so as to give us maximum protection. Lights of any kind were blanked off so as to show only slits. Greaseproof paper was also used to dim the light of torches. Getting about at night soon became hazardous and of course there was also a great deal of shrapnel falling from our own Anti Aircraft Guns (Ack Ack). My father was issued with a steel helmet because at my insistence he had become a member of the Civil Defence. I wore this sometimes as protection against shrapnel. It was safer. We had a few raids but I only heard I think three bombs actually fall. On Nottingham Forest a smoke screen was put up. This consisted of a long line of burners emitting black smoke and also emitting an awful smell of paraffin.

Mum & Me at Burgh August 1939

My mother fell ill shortly after the start of the war. She was diagnosed as having neurasthenia. She was admitted to a hospital where she underwent Electro Convulsive Therapy (ECT) which was fashionable at the time and is still used in a small proportion of cases. My mother’s illness meant my father and I had to live with relatives, or at least I did. I stayed with my Aunt Florrie and Uncle Samuel Richard (Dick) in Henrietta Street, Bulwell. A fellow lodger was my cousin Albert. He was working at Paynes a Nottingham printing firm which was non-union so could never lead to an apprenticeship for him. Pity for printers after the war became a power in the land and indeed held the country to ransom before being beaten by modern technology. Albert joined the sea cadets. He wore the naval uniform very proudly but did not want to join the Royal Navy. He was told there was no commitment to join up but later when he was due to go to camp with them he was told that immediately after that camp had ended all the campers would be in the Navy. He resigned.
I had watched him press his naval uniform and learned a lot about the use of electric irons. My school work had to be done every evening and as I was always late up in the mornings at that time everything had to be got ready first. Shoes were polished every day. If not it meant lines from GEG (George Ernest Goodall). The habit stayed with me for many years. Uncle Dick used to go down to the cellar to take shelter during air raids. He took with him a crate of ale. I was shocked to see the next day that most of it had been consumed which once again rocked my Methodist sensibilities.

Meanwhile the school set up the ATC the Air Training Corps whose commander was the headmaster Mr Houston, resplendent in RAF uniform. His rank depended on the number of recruits and he became a squadron leader. I never joined but many boys did and many were killed mainly as bomber crews. By the time I was 18 the war was virtually over and so I never did national service apart from my years in General Veterinary Practice which counted as such for we were part of the agricultural industry. Oh I forgot I served in the Civil Defence as an ambulance driver. Six weeks after I joined the Civil Defence Hitler gave up. Very wise of him I thought!
But several well loved masters went into the forces and were killed. I have already mentioned Mr Connors but there was also Mr R R S Bennett who taught us Nature Studies. He was very good at it too. All the masters who had special skills were drafted either into the forces or into war work of some kind. Both the Woodwork Master and Mr Pomfret the Metalwork Master went into the Ministry of Supply. French and German speakers were in great demand. We did not lose any of ours presumably they were too old but there was an interesting knock on effect in that French Oral exams were abandoned due to lack of examiners. Thus my knowledge or spoken French suffered and does to this day. My written French is up to Matriculation standard (or was) and so I write all the letters for my elder daughter but it is she who rattles off French very fluently and so speaks for me. My two elder Grandsons in Canada are bilingual I am proud to say.

Then, horror of horrors, the Masters began to be replaced by women. Betsy Norman arrived to teach biology. She had been a medical student in Edinburgh and was married to a Group Captain stationed in the nearby Hucknall Aerodrome. Their pre-war home was in Croydon which I afterwards came to know very well. She was a good teacher but very much biased in favour of the medical profession and Scotland. I learned a lot from her. Afterwards all her star pupils failed at University but me, and I think she regarded me as the poorest student. Her cleverest student, Jack Ritchie, went to Edinburgh and failed at medicine.
The air raid shelters came in handy later on in the war after the threat of air raids receded. Part of our later war effort was to grow potatoes. The dark dank atmosphere in the shelters was just right for seed potatoes to sprout. But we had to try to plough up the playing field or part of it first. Someone got a plough and a shire horse. One poor boy who said he could plough, his father being a farmer, tried valiantly to get the plough going but to no avail. Somehow the area was turned over and furrows made in which seed potatoes were dropped at about a foot or so apart. Then we filled in the trench. I got bored with this to my shame and devised a game whereby a fork was poised over where the gamester thought the potato was. If you were right and forked the potato you won. Mostly you lost for it was quite hard to position the fork exactly over the potatoes once the trench had been filled in. But it passed the time. A Master came along and said, “Look you must be more careful, one of these potatoes is forked right through!”

Still later in the war I volunteered to go potato picking. This meant setting off very early to ride to the farm which was at Bielby south of the Trent some six miles away. It was hard and backbreaking work for which I was paid sixpence an hour (2.5P). But potato picking was war work. My hourly rate has gone up since then.
I ought to mention a few other activities at school. First of all there was the orchestra. I joined this on entry to the school, playing in the second violins and eventually in the first. It is a mistake to think the first violins are necessarily better than the second violins; it is a different technique rather like the difference between sopranos and altos.
The teacher was a Mr Pinkett. He was no disciplinarian and boys always take advantage of this. So one day we had a visit from Mr Houston, the headmaster. “You will attend rehearsals whenever they are called,” he said “Otherwise you will end up playing the double bass!” (For the uninitiated double bass players always stand up when they are playing) We got the message.
In fact I have always enjoyed playing in an orchestra and did so until very recently. The Henry Mellish orchestra used to perform at the school plays. I was very fond of many of the pieces of music we played. In particular the Edward German dances and Mozart’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. There were four performances of the plays. It was always a thrill to me to play the introduction and we would play quieter and quieter as the curtain slowly rose. We would then noiselessly place our instruments on the floor and watch the stage, entranced. I remember particularly Goldsmith’s “She Stoops to Conquer” it has always been a favourite of mine. I remember the performance on the last night in which the boy playing the main part amended his line to “And Katherine Neville can go to the devil” A more frightening play was “Liquidation” all about the Nazis. And that was before we learned about the holocaust.

“Alas poor Yorick”

We were not taught drama at school as I recollect. We were from time to time encouraged to speak in public but we never had any formal teaching in the rib swinging technique. There must have been talent there in the school for the Drama Society flourished. Once only did we have a school concert. Everybody was asked if they were willing to perform. Boys do not willingly do this sort of thing and only a very few agreed. One boy sang “Here a poor hulk lies poor Tom Bowling”. I think the same boy, a chap called Bettany, also read one of his own poems. There was also a fancy dress parade and that was greeted with more enthusiasm. My cousin Geoff Green had been given or perhaps had made a Zulu shield. He blacked up and ran round the hall with his shield and an assegai beating a rhythm on the shield as he ran. He was very good. Another boy dressed himself as a crippled miner. I think this was a form of political protest. If so it was quite unnecessary as we all knew about mining and so did the masters. He shuffled round the hall taking a great deal of time to do it and causing many of us to feel rather embarrassed. When he got to where the headmaster was sitting he produced a bottle and asked the head, “do you want a swig?” Afterwards we asked a master what he thought of the boy’s performance. He made no comment except to say that the boy had left an awful mess in the dressing room. The boy had used real coal dust to blacken up.
My technique on the violin was faulty so I thought I would like to try to also learn to play the piano. My parents dutifully bought me an upright overstrung Bechstein and arranged for lessons from a very good teacher, a Dr Henniker. All went reasonably well until I contracted scarlet fever. My mother insisted I be nursed at home for the four weeks it would take. I had to be in strict isolation. During the latter part of that time I was a tyrant to my poor mother. I think she was right to keep me at home for in those days children would go into hospital and whist there were quite likely to also contract diphtheria. Deaths from either of the two diseases were quite common.
At the conclusion of my time in quarantine I made a decision to concentrate on my school work. I realised that I had to get School Certificate preferably with Matriculation Exemption. I felt it would be a struggle so after 18 months at the piano I gave it up. Dr Henniker was annoyed for he had done his best and I think thought me a promising pupil. I knew I was a slow learner and needed to really concentrate on my school work if I was to be successful.
My reading at that time was mainly the William books of Richmal Crompton, a maiden lady who had the ability to get into the mind of a boy. My English teacher was appalled at my poor taste, which was shared by most of my fellows. We read Pickwick Papers as a school exercise, and I never recognised it as the very funny book it is. That came later and I have now read Pickwick many times. I was always quite good at English Grammar but for some reason we were never introduced to the work of the redoubtable H W Fowler. We studied the works of Addison and Steele and tried to model our work on them. My writing at that time was heavily criticised. I suppose the problem as that not having much experience we wrote in a derivative style. The master said don’t worry, style will come later. That proved correct save that my elder daughter thinks my style is medieval!

I was never good at games. For one thing due to my astigmatism I had to wear spectacles. I don’t think spectacles are safe when playing cricket but I played anyway. But I was never picked for the house side never mind the school side. Similarly with rugger. I was small and could run quite quickly but never fully understood the rules. I remember playing full back. I was the only boy between a boy called Northfield and the goal line. “Nougat” Northfield was a very good player and was in Yellow House. I stopped him and felt the pain for a long time. He was quite a big chap and was running very fast. Otherwise I made myself very unpopular by catching the ball on my chest before getting it into my hands. That always resulted in the whistle blowing and a scrum down which the chaps hated. I never realised that that counted as a “knock on” perhaps it doesn’t?
After the game which in my case was always a practice game we went into the communal bath. We had become accustomed to seeing each other naked because after gym we had to go into the communal shower. In after life I noted that boys who had not had a secondary education, or attended Grammar School or Public School were very shy. At camps it was hard to even get them to take their shirts off to wash themselves.
Coming back to rugby, the communal bath was a very smelly affair. The water was dirty with the mud from the field and it was hard to see how we would be any cleaner coming out than when we went in. But miraculously we were and of course the hot water relaxed our muscles.
Gymnastics I liked at first but afterwards thought they were a waste of time and did my best to get out of them. The slightest cold or nose dribble was enough and of course in the Bulwell of that day the air pollution meant quite a bit of nasal discharge. I used to take in notes to get out of gym. My father was amused when I got these duplicated on his typewriter leaving blanks for the date. But of course I could do my homework during the gym period so it was not so stupid.
Athletics we never took seriously. Practice was minimal and techniques were never taught. We all had to taker part though and enter for at least three events. I used to do the 100yards, the long jump or the hop skip and jump and the shot putt. The only one of these I did any good at was the shot putt where I usually achieved a low standard which meant three points to the house. Events such as the Discus and the Javelin we were not encouraged to do. But certain selected boys proudly threw the javelin or spun round and round and threw the discus.

I mentioned Northfield above. I never knew his Christian name. The same with PHB May who went to Oxford and was a cricket blue (not to be confused with PBH May Captain of England. He went to Charterhouse). Boys never used Christian names. It is odd but it is a fact. Rather like in the Civil Service where I was often called Jackson. But I did know a great friend called Peter (Ebling) who lived at Mapperley as did many of the Mellish boys. The great advantage and disadvantage of that place was that Mapperley was on a ridge and to get to it meant a fearful hill climb by bicycle. But once there, in winter especially it was a super area for sledging of which I became very fond. Years later it was a favourite activity. The only way to avoid the hill climb if I was on my way to go fishing with Geoff Green, my cousin who lived in Gedling, was to go via Colwick, picking up maggots on the way from a shop which sold them.
Very few Mellish boys lived in Bulwell so bike rides to meet friends had to be made. We were all busy with homework during the week and weekends we went to Papplewick so my social life was not marvellous. As an only child I do not think I had very good social skills. If they came at all they came later! But even now I would rather not meet someone than meet them. But ice once broken I become excessively gregarious “like a puppy” someone once said of me.
In form V we sat the School Certificate. Long before that, in form III about the time I gave up my piano lessons (see above) I had had a look at the careers section in the Charles Letts diary and saw that School Certificate certainly and better still, London Matriculation, were needed to pursue the sort of career I wanted. I reasoned that I would need five subjects and from then on deliberately concentrated my efforts in passing examinations rather than merely just learning. Quite wrong of course but everybody does it.
I decided that I was not good enough to become a doctor, that idea was re-enforced later by Mrs Betsy Norman who thought me inferior to her other pupils. In fact in the end I did better than any of them. And now of course medical students are often there because they have failed to get into a veterinary school. Veterinary schools now have higher entrance requirements that any of the other University Faculties.
I felt I was not good enough to get distinctions in History or Geography. History I loved but never got good marks. In Geography the exasperated master, seeing some good work I had done said “not another one with artistic temperament! Only work when you feel like it eh?” He was right.

In the end I got Matriculation Exemption because I did well enough by way of credits or distinctions in Maths, Physics, English Literature, English Grammar and French. That made five subjects which were just enough. In fact my French was not quite good enough but the examiners were allowed to award bonus marks to someone who had done well in other subjects. So with two bonus marks I just scraped through. In fact only three other boys that year did as well as I did. I may say I have never had any illusions about my ability. Other people think I am clever but I do not think that at all. When my cousin Bill Shipside said years later to my elder daughter, “Clever chap this” meaning me. I was very proud. It is a tradition in the north that you never praise anyone. Fathers never praise their sons. I think that is a pity. But what I really wanted to be is good at games and that was certainly denied me.
I had decided in Form III that what I wanted to be was a veterinary surgeon. This was after perusal of the Charles Letts diary. Later on we were given careers advice from a master. I found it less than helpful. Many masters have little knowledge as to what is available or what is required from a person joining that trade or profession. I remember one master who had been told the boy wanted to be a civil engineer said to the boy’s father “but he is no good with his hands”. At this time I was obsessed with flying. I thought I wanted to be a pilot. I read a lot of magazines about flying in the First World War and knew all about things such as the Immelmann turn. In the press such boys were referred to as being “air-minded” so I told the careers master I was air minded and he collapsed with mirth. At least he did not write about me as a master reported on a boy who was similarly obsessed but with NASA and Cape Canaveral but was also very dim. The master wrote “His head is full of space”.
Post matriculation I entered the sixth form. With no school examinations ahead of me it was a strange time. We were allowed to use the staff room and virtually could take any class we thought might help our future career. I took biology because Betsy Norman said that at college there would be much making of microscope slides and it was important to be good and quick at that. So I became adept at the use of coverslips dehydrations of tissues and the mounting of specimens. I also did a bit of work in the chemistry lab. I remember we used to make tea there in laboratory beakers. The glass of these was so thin that when they contained hot tea they could only be held after several layers of paper had been wrapped round them.

I never got the hang of calculus

I also attended higher mathematic classes but never got anywhere with calculus. The woman teacher seemed to have a perpetual cold and talked all the time about something which sounded to me like “dota Y”. It was long afterwards I found out it was delta Y. So my final two terms at Henry Mellish were not very productive.

My cousin Geoff Green on the other hand was in his element. He was given a free hand to work in metal or wood. He turned out some wonderful work which went on exhibition. His use of wood lathes to produce beautiful wooden bowls won my admiration. Some other boys in the sixth made a motor car. They had an old Riley chassis and built up a new car from that. Renovating the engine and producing over quite a long period a very nice motor car. By this time some of this motor car team were aged 19 years and one had a fine moustache.

The Old Boys’ Committee 1954
Front Row second from left is Peter Ebling.
The Headmaster, Mr G F Houston MA is in the middle

Subsequent History of the School

I left in 1943. The 1944 Education Act though ground breaking, made little difference to the school except with regard to the abolition of school fees. The school had started out in 1929 as the Henry Mellish County Secondary School with 214 boys on the register of whom the majority were transferred from existing County secondary schools at Hucknall and West Bridgford. The remainder were new entrants from both the County and the City.
Sometime between then and 1954 the school became a Grammar School. Grammar schools are not popular in left wing circles and as such were then as always, under attack.
In 1954 Mr G F Houston the Headmaster wrote that, “The fears then i.e. in 1949) expressed about our future have receded, and we can go on without the nagging feeling that the next year may be our last. Wiser counsels have prevailed, and it seems certain that we are fortunate in having friends who are both strong and wise.”
Also in 1954 Mr L W A White, Chairman of the Governors wrote “Our boys leave us as young men of fine, upright and sturdy characters; they can be picked out anywhere”. Again in 1954 Mr J Evans (clerk to the Governors since 1929) wrote, “These notes could hardly be complete without a tactful reference to what has been likened to a shadow falling across the future prospects to the school. Changes are inevitable and while at the moment these changes appear to be delayed – perhaps indefinitely – this may not always be the case, and if those who regard themselves as being justified in attempting to influence the future of the school still hold the views they so vigorously expressed, it behoves them not to let themselves be forgetful or apathetic.”
Interviewed in 1964 by “The Centaur” the school magazine, the Headmaster Mr G F Houston, was asked
There was once the possibility of this school coming co-educational. Why was the idea abandoned?
To which he replied “I do not think it ever existed, actually – not in that form. There was a proposal under the County’s development plan, when the Education Act came in just after the war, that a number of new, co-educational, grammar schools should be established in the area which we had served and that this school should close about 1951 or 1952 but here we are still, in 1964. There was a good deal of opposition organised by the Governors, Staff and Old Boys; we sent a deputation to meet the members of the Education Committee who were dealing with this aspect of their policy and they abandoned the idea and eventually decided that no limit could be put on the life of the school.”
Also during the interview he said he thought extracurricular activities were very important. The school as a social centre has always had the difficulty that all the boys and the parents have to travel to the School. He pointed out the disadvantages of the GCE which came in 1951. Prior to that we had the School Certificate Examination which boys took after five years and which could not be obtained unless they passed in English Language and at least five other subjects, so I should say it is an advance for them to obtain a certificate for the subjects for which they have passed; to some extent this has tended to encourage boys to think they can just work at subjects which interest them and ignore the others.” How right he was!
Sadly (from my point of view) the future of the school proved to be even bleaker than had been envisaged. The erstwhile Grammar School, under the 1974 Education Act became a Comprehensive School and hence co-educational. The High Pavement Grammar School became a Sixth Form College, so there was no sixth form at Henry Mellish. After 1974 the Henry Mellish School was never remotely the same as it had been in its halcyon days. The previously flourishing Henry Mellish Old Boys Association is now merely a rugby club although proudly exhibiting the much loved school colours of yellow and green at its playing fields in Mapperley, miles away from the school.
There was a definite ray of sunshine when my first cousin (and ex High Pavement) Ronald Martin AMIME, JP became a member of the Governors of the school in 1996 and in 1999 its Chairman. Ron had also served in 1974 as Vice-Chairman of the Governors of High Pavement Grammar School. But even Ron, strong, resourceful and wise character as he was and still is, was unable to stop the rot. He lived at that time not very far from the school and according to Margaret, his wife; once he became Chairman he had to pay visits to the school almost every day to resolve problems that had arisen. New science labs were opened in 1999 and Ron invited the Lord Lieutenant to open them. The Lord Lieutenant was a nephew of Alderman Henry Mellish and was delighted to attend the school named in honour of his uncle.
In 1996 the examination results at Henry Mellish were abysmal with less than 10% getting 5 A-C passes. It was decided that there was no point in entering some of the scholars into the GCSE exams but that it would be beneficial to enter them into vocational subject exams. The Governors were assured that these would qualify as GCSE passes in the league tables. This was however misleading and they were informed later that this would not be the case. The percentage pass rate was based on the numbers in year 11 and although the pass rate improved it was divided by the number in year 11 and not the numbers taking the exanimation. The pass rate had improved to about 15%.
The school was in Special Measures for just over two years. A New Head Teacher was appointed in 2000. He thought he was god and would not accept advice. Ron resigned in 2002 because he could not work with this Head Teacher. A few months after Ron left it was discovered that the school had overspent the budget by over £400,000 even thought the information provided to the Governors indicated that the budget was in balance. The Nottinghamshire Education Committee to avoid embarrassment allowed the Head Teacher to retire. This was in 2003. The Deputy Head was appointed but she left in 2005. In 2006 yet another Head Teacher was appointed but in 2007 it was decided to close the school in 2009 when it will join the Leen Valley School (formerly the Blenheim Girls School prior to being renamed the Alderman Derbyshire School after Alderman Derbyshire was discredited) to form the Bulwell Academy at the current Leen Valley School at the bottom of Squires Avenue, Bulwell. The school still has between 700-750 scholars.
I am afraid this Henry Mellish Old Boy just cannot understand how the school was allowed to go from the sublime to the ridiculous. I gained so much from the school and its subsequent history makes me very sad. The story provides a very good example of the truth of the saying “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it”. People like Mr G F Houston and Mr G E Goodall will be turning over in their graves. I also feel sorry for the remaining 700-750 pupils who will be deprived of the education their forbears had. It is a story of an excellent school ruined by a combination of political dogma and the theories of the educationalists.
I am delighted to acknowledge the great help of Ronald Martin for taking the time and the trouble to provide me with a great deal of inside information.

You can see what it must have been like for me at a tough council school but I survived among all the clogs and pit boots etc. My years of bliss had come to an end when aged four I was sent to the council school just up the road. I remember thinking that this marked the end of an era and that things would deteriorate from then on. There was something in that but I have had a very happy life in the succeeding 76 years.

Next door lived the Wilkinson’s who had two daughters still at home. Ethel the elder was about my age. Her younger sister was Eunice. Ethel and I played together. I well remember her breaking off one day saying in dialect,” I’ve got to go in to wesh pots”. I never washed crockery until very much later on in life. I would be about 19 at the time I first washed crockery. I was staying with a college friend in Ayrshire. He looked across at me quizzically and said, “You have never washed dishes before have you?” He showed me how to shuffle the plates rather as you shuffle cards, and wipe each side in turn which is of course much quicker than tackling each plate separately. I have never forgotten.

Behind our house was a slaughterhouse. It was run by Mr Walker who was a very kind and nice man and a pillar of the Methodist church. I am sure it was illegal even in those days to allow children into a slaughterhouse but he used to invite me to visit the slaughterhouse on the rare occasions when there was a bullock or cow to slaughter. A rope was passed round the animal’s horns and through a hasp on a stout wooden block. Slowly the animal’s head would be pulled down until the head was resting firmly on the block. A captive bolt pistol was then used to stun the animal. I think it was a very humane method Mr Walker adopted. There was always a strong smell of blood in the building. A huge wooden tub full of very clean water was there. The water was used to wash the various tools used in the slaughter. There was always also a strong smell of dung. In retrospect I cannot imagine why I was ever allowed in the place but times were different then and I suppose, being a countryman, my father thought I ought to know about such things.

My favourite game at home in the back yard next door was to throw a tennis ball against the slaughterhouse wall. It was a huge wall and I never succeeded in getting a ball to the top. It was important not to throw the ball so high that it would be lost. Balls cost money and I might have to wait quite a while before I got another one if I lost that one. I used to play this game for hour after hour and I became very good at catching.

Sam Wilkinson who owned next door was a coal miner. He had converted his coal house into a small rabbitry where he kept prize English Black and White rabbits. Any which failed to win prizes were eaten! I had to be very quiet when one of the does was about to give birth. He did very well with these rabbits and pictures of them adorned the walls of his house. At least the walls in the kitchen and dining room, I was never allowed in the parlour of course. He had served in the First World War (WW1) and had sent home lovely silk postcards which looked very fine in the frame in which they were kept.

On the other side next door was a public house. At night I would lie awake listening to the conversation of the people who had just left at closing time. They would argue about anything, topics such as the number of matches in a box for example. The sound of trains shunting coal wagons at the nearby Cinderhill sidings carried on through the night as well. I used to long for them to stop.

Our road was formerly called Quarry Road. It was paved with granite setts which made for an uncomfortable cycle ride. A great treat was to be taken to school in a carrier bike. My father had two of these both emblazoned with the slogan “JACKSON FOR CYCLES”. I was often late for school, what boy wasn’t? I loved to be whizzed up to school in the basket of one of these bikes. The low gravity one was best, the basket on the other one was rather high off the ground and I suffered from vertigo!

A feature in Bulwell on hot summer days was the water cart. This sprayed water to lay the dust. Immediately after it had done this there was a lovely fresh smell to the road and the dust was certainly laid, at least for a time. Another thing I used to love to see was the steam roller. This was a mighty engine giving off its own smells. It was much larger than current day rollers. Brewer’s drays used to deliver to the Red Lion, the pub next door. The drays were pulled by magnificent Shire horses. The chaps manning it were always brawny. Their job was to get the very large beer barrels through a trap door into the cellar. Sometimes this was done by a hoist attached to the rim of the barrel by steel grapples but the smaller barrels would be dropped off on to a sandbag. The barrels were of course wooden barrels made by people called coopers. The barrels were bound by steel bands. On the side was an opening through which a wooden spigot would be hammered in when the barrel was broached.

One day, someone, perhaps a collier who had been refused drink, tried to blow off the roof of the Red Lion. The person used dynamite sticks and the resultant noise was heard as far away as Hyson Green several miles away. There was only the thickness of a brick wall between my bedroom and The Red Lion but I slept soundly through the whole thing. As a result of the explosion much soot came down from the chimney into my bedroom but even that did not awaken me. The Red Lion licensee was a Mrs Hickton who had taken over from her deceased husband, Bill. She had a son named Ron who would have been perhaps 30 years of age. I used also to go into her chicken run and dig for worms. The hens always crowded round me like autograph hunters round a famous footballer. The soil in the pen appeared to me to be only sand but that could not have been right for worms do not live on sand and there were plenty of worms there.

The beer came from Shipstone’s Brewery which was on the road going from Bulwell to Nottingham Centre. Travelling past the Brewery there was a very distinctive smell of malted grain and hops. Also on that road you passed the gasworks which had another distinctive smell. On the road to the Raleigh Cycle Works was Players Factory. From that came the very pleasant smell of tobacco. Virginia tobacco came in large wooden circular crates. Tobacco is fine to smell but keep away from the smoke especially if you are the smoker. I smoked from age 16 until age 45 some 29 years. I should have had more sense. My father never smoked and of course neither did my mother. That would have been something in those days, a woman seen smoking in Bulwell!

Two other vehicles seen in Commercial Road were noteworthy, the milk float and the ox cart. The milkman had a smart cart pulled by a trotting pony. The milkman stood on the back step behind several large milk churns with measuring ladles hooked on to their sides. Pints or half pints were ladled out into the buyer’s jugs. Mother never bought from him, she thought the bottled milk from the local co-op was more hygienic. Farming, particularly dairy farming was in a precarious state at the time and a milk round was almost the only way to make a dairy farm pay. A rare treat was to see the ox cart. This was a publicity stunt for Oxo cubes rather than a serious way to transport them. The vehicle was pulled by two Hereford bullocks with lovely white foreheads as all Herefords have

Goose Fair

Nottingham had the “Goose Fair” every year. Traditionally geese were driven from as far afield as Norfolk. The geese’s feet would in the early days be tarred to protect them from the rough surfaces of the road. But no geese were around in the 1930’s. Goose Fair was held on what was called Nottingham Forest, which was a park really. Steam engines were there to generate the power needed to run the amusements. There were dodgems and various terrifying rides. Stalls would sell brandy snaps which Mother allowed but she never allowed me any other kind of food.

Mother was always rather genteel. Not so we males. When we had damsons in custard for desert we used to delight in spitting out the stones so as to hit the coal fire which was blazing away behind us. The stones made a lovely sizzling noise. Mother was appalled and did her best to try to stop us. We had some plates which we discovered were slightly imperfect in that they were not quite flat on the table so they could be spun. Dad would say “I’ve got a spinner!” and by spinning it would proceed to demonstrate that he had one. I did the same whenever a “spinner” chanced to be placed before me on the table.

Coal mining was the only career open to most of my school friends at Quarry Road Council School. Their destiny was “to go down the pit”. There was also, in Nottingham itself, Players tobacco factory and the Raleigh cycle works but not many boys made it to these. Towards the end of my stay at Quarry Road I remember asking my father “Shall I have to go down the pit when I leave school, Dad?” He smiled and shook his head. “No, you won’t be going down the pit” he said

Perhaps 95% of the children at the school were the sons and daughters of colliers. Many of the miners’ sons had cleats and studs nailed on the soles of their boots to be in line with “me dad’s pit boots”. I always wore shoes. Shoes were the mark of cissies but my mother insisted I was not to wear boots. Despite all this I got on well with the rest of the boys and girls. I am afraid some were very rough and not very clean. But when you are that age you do not notice such things. It is only later that class and race prejudices arise and then they must be got over!

Terence Woolley at his wedding

People who were at school with me in 1934 (see photograph above) were George Bott, Terence Woolley, Roy Denning, Eric Moon, Ernest White, Edwin Thornhill, Ron Marriott, Chrissie Pavior, Kenny Ledger, Percy Rhodes, Freddie Saunders, Alan Dawes, Barbara Brown, Ivy Cliff, Ivy Atter, Audrey Wilson and Kathie Fletcher. Roy Denning’s mother had died and he was looked after in part by “Queenie” Denning his brother. Queenie Denning was a homosexual which must have been hard for him living in such a macho town as Bulwell. There was another homosexual in Bulwell, Queenie Hughes. The two were good friends most of the time but occasionally quarrelled to our amusement. Alan Dawes lived at a public house called “The Masons Arms” his father was the licensee and the pub was on Commercial Road only a few yards away from where I lived. Bulwell supported a lot of pubs. Joyce Sim’s father was a pork butcher, also on Commercial Road. Her brother was a champion swimmer and attempted the channel, I cannot remember if he succeeded. Joyce fully expected to become a swimming champion herself for she proudly showed me her webbed foot. With webbed feet she thought she could swim like a duck!

Me aged eight after getting my specs

About the age of eight I joined the wolf cubs. I joined with my school friend Roy Denning. The cubs met in a room at the Bulwell Church Institute where my father used to play billiards. My great friend Terence Woolley refused to join the cubs because his father thought the cubs were a military organisation. This was of course because the cubs had been founded by Lieutenant-General Lord Baden-Powell the hero of Mafeking (1899-1900) a town besieged by the Boers in the Boer War. Baden-Powell wrote a book in 1908 “Scouting for Boys”. That is not a title anybody would dare to use today but in those less sophisticated days it was quite proper. My father also thought that Baden-Powell as a military man was not quite the thing but he allowed me to join the cubs. I took great delight in wearing the uniform. When I passed the tenderfoot (the first exam.) my mother proudly sewed the tenderfoot badge on my green pullover and cap. I never achieved high office in the cubs. I never became a “sixer” or a “second” as the patrol leader and his deputy were called. I left the cubs but cannot remember the reason for so doing. I never joined the Scouts.

I can claim to have met Lord Baden-Powell. I was among a group of cubs who were assembled in a field near Newark. We did not really know why we were there. A man was standing in an elevated position in the field but we took no notice of him. Soon a group of scoutmasters formed a ring round the chap standing some way off on a box. The scoutmasters linked arms. At a signal we were told to rush excitedly towards the ring of scoutmasters. It was very much a stage managed affair. I suppose the chap (who was of course Baden-Powell) did speak to us but whether or not he did so and what he said to us I cannot now recall. I was impressed with the bearing of the great man who undoubtedly had charisma. I was at an age when you just did without questioning whatever your mates did.

My life at this time was orientated to my father’s business in which from an early age I played a very peripheral role. I used to stand by in the shop but my job was merely to call out loudly “Shop!” when a customer entered. From early morning until late at night we never closed, certainly not for lunch or dinner as it is called in Nottingham. Many times I have seen a dinner grow cold when a customer arrived at an inopportune time. I did use to serve petrol winding the handle up and releasing it to let down a gallon at a time. Fortunately there was a counter which clocked up the gallons pumped so you could not forget how much petrol you had put it.

My parents’ life and hence mine, followed a very regular pattern. Thursday afternoons the shop was shut. It was to do with some regulation by the Nottingham Chamber of Commerce. Every Thursday we used to drive to Papplewick, a village a few miles away, where dad had bought a five acre field. The land was out in the open and was well away from the industrial Bulwell fumes. Once arrived there my mother used to take in deep breaths and say “The air is like wine” but I do not think she had ever drunk wine in her life. My father had paid sixpence a square yard for the land. Entry was through a gap in a hawthorn hedge beneath a lovely oak tree. There had been a gate at one time but that had long ago disappeared. It never was replaced in my time. Driving in the field was like driving on a switchback. There was nothing on the field at that time save a railway carriage which had been converted to a dwelling house and in it lived Mr Gadsby who ran a chicken farm on part of the land.

We also went on Sunday afternoons to Papplewick. Sunday mornings I went to the Primitive Methodist Church Sunday School when I was old enough. Mum occasionally attended the morning service there but not often. There was a Sunday School in the afternoons too, and the teacher told me off for not attending. “You go to school mornings and afternoons during the week don’t you? So you must attend here on Sunday afternoons too.” Mother used to go to the evening service and I well remember falling asleep snuggling against a black fur Astrakhan coat she wore.

Holidays were always spent at Burgh-le-Marsh in Lincolnshire. This arrangement started before I was born. To save money my father had bought a tent and camping equipment such as a camp bed and primus stoves. Friends in Bulwell recommended they camped in a field owned by Amos Johnson who was the owner of the very small farm named “UANDI” pictured below. You can see my father’s Ford car (he always had a Ford) on the far right. Soon the Johnsons said it was not right for them to camp and offered to put them up and this arrangement continued for many years.

Amos Johnson’s farm

The farm had only two bedrooms and access to the room the Johnson’s slept in was through ours. There were just two fields and neither field had much grass. Instead of grass there were numerous plantains. There were also numerous cow pats. I used to try to play cricket there and it was not very good because the ball had to be continually cleaned. Amos kept one cow which I used to watch him milk. Milk would be taken to the separator and cream would come off. The cream would be used to make butter which would be sold in the market. There was a small yard fenced off and the surface was mud. I had the idea of bringing back sand from the sea shore. Bucket after bucket of sand brought by me from the beach and laid down in this yard effected no improvement at all. It remained muddy.

I remember one exciting incident. There was a girl aged about 20 staying with the Johnson’s one year. She used to talk to me a lot. I found these chats a little dull. Her sole topic was the films of Tarzan featuring Johnny Weissmuller. From conversions overheard I gathered this girl had been sent to Burgh to get her away from someone. A young chap turned up on a motorcycle one day. I was with him near his machine when the carburettor caught fire. Showing great presence of mind the chap threw his mackintosh over the flames and put the fire out otherwise the whole thing would have gone up. I was very impressed. He of course burnt a hole in his Mac. The young man must have been the undesirable lover.

Once I remember we took Amos to Spilsby Market where Amos bought a pig which we transported back in a sack. It was probably illegal to do this even in those days! Amos was what was called locally a “shepherd” but it wasn’t sheep he herded but cattle. Usually the cattle were Lincoln Reds, a dual purpose breed that is for both milk and beef. Amos worked every week for the firm of auctioneers who owned Burgh market. Simons, Ingoldme

CHAPTER FIVE

WORCESTER DAYS (SOCIAL)

Towards the end of our time in Derby Anthea had given up her job at Mill Road Maternity Hospital and had been appointed sister in charge of the premature baby unit at Derby Royal Infirmary. This was six months before we were married on July 11^th 1953. In the last chapter I gave some details about my courtship days and promised to give more. These now appear below. I apologise for any repetitions.

We had become engaged more or less. The less became more when she was telling me about her boyfriends. One was called Johnny Tate. He was a medical student and belonged to the famous Tate family. He used to call for Anthea on a motor bike. One day he called for her in a Bentley. Indignantly she asked what had become of the motor bike. She much preferred the motor bike. Tate once took Anthea home to meet his mother. I told Anthea boys never take girls home to meet their mothers unless they were seriously considering matrimony. She had never realised that.

Johnny Tate was supplanted by another medical student called Johnny Brown. I think he was much less of a rival for me than the Tate was with his millions made from sugar, his motor bikes and his Bentleys. Anthea discussed marrying Johnny Brown. I said “Well you are marrying me not marrying him” “Oh am I?” she asked?” “Of course you are” I said and that was that!

We were in Friesland in the Netherlands at a town called Sneek at the time. Our small sailing sloop was moored alongside a street. A group of boys who spoke only Dutch were making themselves a nuisance. As a scoutmaster I was used to being obeyed by boys. But I failed with these boys. Cliff Kell (teacher) and Winifride Billington (Medical student) also failed. Finally Anthea went out and scolded them in English. Go away. I have had enough of you” she said, and off they went! I was very impressed.

At first we lived in an apartment in Hartington Street, Derby but in September 1953 I moved to Worcester to become a Veterinary Officer in (MAF) Ministry of Agriculture. We had advertised in the Worcester newspaper for accommodation giving the address of the hotel we would be staying in briefly. We got a lot of replies which annoyed the manager of the hotel. He said we ought to have notified him that we were going to do that.

The owner of a flat in Malvern offered to rent it to us for six months. It had been rented out to Sir Donald Woolfit the famous Shakespearian actor at a time when he was appearing at the Malvern Theatre. I had seen Woolfit in “The Merchant of Venice” at Nottingham’s Theatre Royal. He had impressed me when he spat on the floor of the theatre. Now that is good acting I thought! The owner of the flat in Malvern regularly let the flat as she claimed she could not possibly stay in England during the winter. Poor thing! The short lease of six months rather put us off. After a brief stay in rooms, this time in Worcester itself, Anthea got us a house in Ombersley Road where we were very happy for many months.

The Ombersley Road house was owned by a Mrs Haynes and had been rented by her to a MAF employee whom she thought was marvellous. Under his tenancy the garden had completely run down. My Aunt and Uncle, Elsie and Alf Green came down to stay for a week. Alf was a professional gardener/chauffeur. With no prompting from me he took the garden in hand and it soon became a showpiece. A few days later Mrs Haynes came to the house and I proudly showed off the immaculate garden. All she said was “What have you done with the mint?”

One of Mrs Haynes’s stipulations was that there were to be no children in the house. Soon after that Anthea became pregnant so we went house hunting and with the aid of my father we bought 44 Cornmeadow Lane. Mrs Haynes then said we had no need to do that as she would not have minded a baby being in the house. But it was all for the best for the Cornmeadow Lane house was super. It was built in a former pear orchard and we had all the pears we could eat and then some. The only problem with the house was that there were only three bedrooms. We soon found we needed four bedrooms because my father came to live with us after he became ill and by that time we had two children, Elizabeth and Anne. But that problem was later solved by events.

Anthea and Lizzie

Andy Skea. Great friend and colleague and godfather to Lizzie

Walter’s deputy was Andy Skea from the Orkneys. He had been described as the best veterinary officer in the service and I can well believe that to be true. He needed experience in England though, as all his service up until then had been in Scotland. He had come down from Dingwall in 1953 to look after two new recruits, myself and Reginald Harold Thoumine, a Guernseyman. Reg had left Guernsey on the outbreak of war saying goodbye to his parents whom he never saw again. He joined up as a private in the Surrey Regiment and ended up as a Staff Major having been Mentioned in Despatches and been ADC to Lord Mountbatten. He had been in charge of Raffles College in Singapore. He told me the labourers were very poorly paid. He used to walk round the college and would come across a gang sweeping and a few minutes further on would see a gang sweeping at another place. But they were the same gang! Reg was a very kind hearted man and did not want to let on that he had noticed.

During the war he had landed on the Normandy Beaches in the very early days of the invasion. He said it was chaos. Of all the units he knew none in fact landed on the same beach as their equipment. Afterwards he was in Burma and spent three days in a slit trench suffering from dysentery. After demob he enrolled as an ex-serviceman at the London Veterinary College (The Royal Veterinary College – RVC) where he came under the tuition of Professor Harold Burrow founder of the Derby practice. He spoke well of Burrows.

During all this time our domestic life changed a lot. Elisabeth was born in 1954 and 18 months later Anne came into the world. We had been advised to allow at least two years between babies in view of Anthea’s mitral valve condition but in the event Anne arrived and was loved from the start as was Lizzie. It meant however that whilst Anthea was in hospital for the seven week’s bed rest prescribed, I had to look after Lizzie with the help of neighbours. Seven weeks later Lizzie did not recognise her mother. That was very upsetting for Anthea.

Anne’s baptism certificate

In Ronkswood Hospital while expecting Anne Anthea met Hazel Wallis a dentist’s wife from Malvern who was expecting her first baby. I used to give Hazel’s husband, Raymond, a lift to the station. We all became good friends. Raymond had been in Japan whilst he was an officer in the Dental Corps. He had learned judo whilst in Japan so Raymond had to be treated with respect. I used to say he had lethal hands! I subsequently became godfather to Janet, their third child. The first child was Graham Peter, the second son was Gareth. Raymond was a great joker. One night we were all in his house and by some means or other he got hold of my car keys and carefully moved my car into the driveway next door. There was consternation when I came out and thought my car had been stolen.

Our two babies kept Anthea very busy but she had some help in the house. When she had Anne Anthea weighed less at term than at the start. When we first arrived in Worcester Anthea wanted a job and suggested she went fruit picking. I vetoed this as the fruit pickers I had seen were a coarse lot. In any case at that time wives of professional people did not go out to work. If they did it was a slur on the husband. I had not realised how crazy Anthea was about fruit picking. In later life she became an avid amateur fruit picker.

We had joined the Presbyterian Church in Worcester. The minister was a Welshman, The Reverent Mr Osmar. Welsh Presbyterianism is very different from Scottish Presbyterianism. I suspect that Irish Presbyterianism is different again. Andy Skea had been made an Elder at the Worcester Church. He made a fine Elder too. The Osmars were very nice. Mrs Osmar was very beautiful and also nice. We had more raspberries in our garden than we could eat and Anthea organised raspberry teas and made a collection for the church.

At Walter’s house I met Capt Spreckley who was head of Spreckley’s Brewery. He was also Boy Scout County Commissioner for Worcestershire. As I was a former scoutmaster he suggested I report to the Worcester District Commissioner, a Mr Smith who owned a joinery works. Smith told me that the Claines Scout Group which was very near Cornmeadow Lane was in trouble in that the wife of the Group Scoutmaster “Chippy Wood” had tragically been found dead in bed. She had been his Akela or cub mistress. Chippy Wood was finding it difficult to carry on and after meeting him and discussing the matter with Anthea I agreed to take over as Scoutmaster under Chippy as Group Scoutmaster.

But first I had to have an interview with Canon Clinch the vicar of Claines. I went one dark night to the vicarage. I was led down a dark passage by a servant. It was all very intimidating and I was shown into a dark room and told to sit in a chair. The chair was illuminated by a very bright light behind which was the vicar. He asked me a number of questions which I must have answered satisfactorily because I was accepted as the new Claines Scoutmaster. Afterwards the main lights were switched on in the room. The boys called Canon Clinch Clanger Clinch and told me he had been in the Indian police in a former career. It showed. There was a large scale map in the room at the vicarage showing all the houses. On our house was a black pin. I enquired the meaning of this and was told it was because I was a Presbyterian.

I have to say that the situation I was placed in at Claines never really worked. Chippy’s wife I suspect had been the driving force. Chippy worked for a firm of wholesale pharmacists delivering medicines to the medical profession. He always used to say how demanding these medical men were. He had a speech impediment which cannot have helped his self confidence. Chippy and me never worked well as a team. He would never say what he wanted me to do and so I did what I thought was right. He then later criticised much of what I did.

For example at camp one year we were rained out. The site was on a river bank and I think well drained. I was not really worried but local people were sure we would be completely inundated and made plans for us to move temporally into the village hall. I discussed this with Chippy and with the troop and eventually we decided as I thought unanimously to accept the kind offer of the local people. It seemed churlish to refuse. At the very last minute Chippy said “Well I am not coming”. If he had said that earlier I would have agreed to stay and in fact we did stay. I think Chippy’s problem was to some extent jealousy of me because I was comparatively highly articulate and he was almost unable to speak in company. I think too that I myself was perhaps too immature to handle Chippy properly. I should never have agreed to serve under him.

I also had problems eventually with Smith the District Commissioner. He organised a District Camping Event. We all had to send a patrol to this function. It had to be a genuine patrol, not one made up of the best scouts from several patrols. In the end it was won by a patrol from another troop made up of specially selected scouts. I of course took the Commissioner to task but all he said was that the winning troop would not take part unless they were allowed to enter a special patrol. I afterwards met my old Derby District Scoutmaster who had left Derby for a place in the country. He said it was a common experience to find that away from the big cities scouting was not the same.

I did quite a bit with the scouts during my five years in Worcester. Anthea was splendid in allowing these activities. I attended JIM (Jamboree Indaba and Moot) which was held in Sutton Park, Birmingham. It was a very big do which lasted I think a whole week. Worcester Scoutmasters taking part were in the Scout Police.

Another week I spent away was at Gilwell Park the International Scout Training HQ in Epping Forest just north of London. This was to attend the wood badge course. This is the training course for scoutmasters and it is pretty tough. There are I think two weekend courses to attend first then the final week at Gilwell. During that week the scoutmasters are organised into patrols and must do exactly the sort of things we were expecting the scouts to do. The highlight was the first class hike. Before qualifying as a first class scout everyone has to do this. It involves a night’s camping and the scout candidate has to carry all his equipment on his back, map read a course of about 15 miles and cook all his food and the menu must include meat. All is written up in a log. At Gilwell Park we all had to do this hike. The place where we camped we thought was not known to the Gilwell Staff. We were expected to leave the site completely free of litter. However the next day we were all assembled and each patrol, I think without exception, was handed a small bag containing various bits if litter. To this day I can never bring myself to throw down even a matchstick. If I pick up someone else’s litter to examine it I feel I must dispose of that too, because I have picked it up!

WOOD Badge Course

The curlew patrol at Gilwell Park The chap in the middle is a veterinary surgeon, Don Lowe. He was killed in an accident. The chap on his right is Michel Tavernier from France

We did all sorts of activities. To my shame I chickened out of an abseiling exercise. My vertigo again kicked in. I was not proud of that. But all sorts of things we did stuck with me. Camp fires I loved to lead after that week in Epping Forest. I am quite sure I gained a lot of confidence through Gilwell Park. By no means all the candidates got through the wood badge course. Several dropped out as they could not take the pressures. For myself I must be grateful that I was allowed to attend by virtue of Anthea’s generosity. All these scouting activities look a lot when written down but they were over a period of five years. One thing I remember with pleasure is that I was relating some story of my scouting activities to Reg and I said “Of course I had a good team” Reg replied “Chaps like you always have a good team!” I am sure he meant it and the remark pleased we greatly.

Back in Worcester the family were slowly growing up. We enjoyed taking the babies out for walks. A treat was to give Tommy a pat. Tommy was a horse that lived in a stable on the way to Claines Church. At the end of this lane was a field and we saw a bird in the field. I watched Lizzie carefully close the field gate. This was to keep the bird in.

Anne and Lizzie

Both children played in the garden where there was very shallow pond. One day Lizzie came to us and said that one of the children who lived up the road was “filling the pond with his own pipe”. We disinfected it hurriedly and later converted it to a sand pit.Anne was proving at a very early age to be an independent person. We three, Lizzie Anne and me were at Gheluvelte Park on a very cold day. We were well wrapped up but Anne has always felt the cold and declared her intention to go home to mum. As we were a very long way from home I decided we must all go home together.

Anne’s other activities were raiding the food trough we had for “Splash” our cat. He objected to her eating his food and was spitting away in protest. We kept all the medicines in a cupboard high up in the bathroom. We thought that was quite safe. But Anne found she could climb the towel rail to get into the cupboard. She helped herself to some “Some” as she called it. This was simple linctus for coughs and colds. I think the only effect of the linctus was to make her a little sleepy. Another time she ate some Daz, a soap powder. Anthea called the doctor. I was away from home at the time. All the doctor said was “Inner cleanliness comes first!” He knew of course that she would vomit if the had eaten a lot of the powder and it was obvious she had not eaten all that much.

My Father who had lived alone in Bulwell since my mother died fell ill and we brought him back to Worcester and called the doctor. The Worcester doctor sent dad straight to hospital. What had happened in Bulwell was that he had not been eating properly. He had never learned to cook. I was not worried about this as my Aunt Florrie was a good cook and came in every day. She doted on my father. But one day I rang up and she told me he was very ill in reproachful terms. How was I to know that? I was not in Bulwell to see for myself. I do not think very highly of the medical services that existed at the time in Bulwell. He had an ulcer and that haemorrhaged badly leaving him very weak. Why had the doctors not spotted that? At any rate we brought him home. Our doctor said he ought not to have been moved. I thought with me in the car and Anthea with me the chance was well worth taking.

So I soon found myself at home in a three bed roomed house with a wife, two little girls and a father. I wanted to extend the house to make a fourth bedroom and sought the advice of a Worcester architect. We reached the stage when a decision had to be made. As my father had largely financed the house I brought him in to the discussion and asked his opinion. To my amazement his main objection was based on the difficulty in removing a large pear tree whose presence interfered with the plan. Another idea of the architect was to have a dormer window. Dad objected to this also as he said it was his experience that dormer windows always leaked. The architect said that was so in the past but with modern design that no longer applied. Both my father’s objections seemed trivial to me and I came to the conclusion that my poor father was not capable of making balanced decisions. I scrapped the idea of adapting the house and had to think of other ways in which my household could accommodate him and my family. My father had previously always seemed to me to be a man of very sound and wise judgement.

Another problem I foresaw was with regard to the education of the girls. In Worcester there was little provision for the further education of girls. True there was the Alice Ottley independent school but that was expensive and hard to get into. A post at Birkenhead Port had been advertised in MAFF (by now we had become the Ministry of Agriculture, Fisheries and Food). This was with Tony (A L F) Mullen DVO with whom I had already worked in Uttoxeter. Cheshire County Council had made provision for seven times the number of places in higher education for girls than had Worcestershire County Council. Furthermore Anthea had two sisters living in the Wirral of Cheshire.

Taken all these factors into account I decided with Anthea’s agreement on a move to Cheshire where I could have built for the family a four bed roomed bungalow which would be better for Anthea’s health and also provide space for my father.

Chapter four

Derby days – social life

One of the advantages of Derby for me was the availability of the super digs which my predecessor Alan Auchnie had vacated. Miss Mabel Best my new landlady was a maiden lady and a staunch member of Derby Presbyterian Church. Her house in Ferrers Way was just up the road from the W S Marshall my boss in general veterinary practice’s house in Allestree. W S Marshall an Elder in Derby Presbyterian Church and did many jobs for the church such as editing the magazine, singing in the choir and serving on various committees.

Miss Mabel Best with her two dogs, Dart and Flight

Dart was the mother of Flight. If you moved your feet she would go for them. It did not make for a relaxed evening until you learned to sit still. I remember the cheese supper dish Miss Best used to make. It was cheese sauce over onions and bread heralded by the call “Cheesy cheesy!” at which both dogs (and us) would come running.The Rev. George Harding

Miss Best had had only two lodgers before me. The first was the Reverend George Harding minister at the Presbyterian Church.

He was a great guy. I joined his congregation and was confirmed in due course. Presbyterianism in its Scottish form is not unlike the Primitive Methodism I had been used to in Bulwell. Poor George Harding met an awful death many years later. At the end of his life he suffered from dementia and was found starved and frozen to death on an exposed place in the north of England near Berwick on Tweed whence he had retired as minister.

Bums needed on seats!

The Church men’s club met every week. I loved these meetings. We always had a guest speaker. I remember particularly a retired engineer who had done some remarkable things. During WW1 he had been involved in the transit overland of two gunboats from the coast of Africa to Lake Victoria. On that lake the Germans had an armed vessel which was of course of great strategic importance. It was the military operation which provided the plot for ‘The African Queen’. The engineer told us all about the trip and showed us graphic pictures of the route and the two steam engines which had pulled the gunboats. He also showed us pictures of Kimberley where he had been engaged in diamond mining. One picture was of the enormous mine which he introduced by saying “Well there you are gentlemen. That is the largest ‘ole ever dug by ‘uman ‘ands.” He gave us a second talk about how he raised the German Fleet which had been scuttled at Scapa Flow. They used compressed air and also underwater welding which I had though was not possible. It is if you can get oxygen down to the flame.

I got as a speaker a man from my digs at the time, an army colonel who was the Food Officer for Derby. Before the war he had been in the Government Immigration Service. In response to a question asked after his talk on the Immigration Service he said there was no such nationality as Scottish. The Scots were properly designated British. That is of course still the case. People now called Scottish are really only people who happen to live in Scotland. Advancement of this undoubted truth can I am sure be guaranteed to upset the Scots anywhere at any time.

Thistles: Scots can be prickly too!

My first digs in Derby

At the Presbyterian Church George Harding was looking for something for the young people to do; at the instigation of W S Marshall I formed Derby Presbyterian Scout Troop (Number 77). We had a tartan neckerchief, Hunting Stewart because anyone can wear the Stuart tartan. We had four scouts to start with so I formed them into two patrols. A patrol is usually 7 or eight strong. But as I had counted on, the two patrols soon recruited others because they did not wish to be outdone.

.

:The 77th Derby (Derby Presbyterian) troop’s first camp

Kit Woodham is on the right. He succeeded me as scoutmaster

Treading the boards with the Presbyterian Players

I also joined the Presbyterian Players and took part in one production. They were very good. I don’t think I shone all that much but I enjoyed it. I had already been in a play when at school so had already ‘trodden the boards’. Although all the Players were amateurs in an emergency a professional might be hired. We did have such an emergency and I marvelled at how much better the professional was than we were. In particular how could he learn his lines in the two days which were available to him? He said that he would be OK but not word perfect. However we could rely upon him delivering the prompt lines. That is the words which brought the next character into the diaglogue. I asked him a few other things. He said he regularly studied people he met and without talking to them would decide “I’m going to be you tonight!”

I got to know quite a few people in the congregation. I remember particularly a Mr Miller whose father was a Presbyterian Church Minister, in other words Mr Millar was a “son of the manse”. Gordon Brown makes similar claims. I used to notice that when we came to the last few words of a hymn, or even the last verse, Miller would look round and snap the covers of the hymn book he held in his hand together. He was telling everybody who watched “I know this bit off by heart”. It was a harmless conceit.

The practice house at Blagreaves Lane

I initiated, designed and helped build a piggery in the garden of the house in Blagreaves Lane. Marshall did most of the work but I certainly helped and enjoyed doing it. At that time it was considered patriotic to keep pigs and use up all the household food scraps as an aid to the war effort.

As well as the Church I had joined the Derby Caledonian Society which the Marshalls also supported. The Society ran classes in Scottish Dancing. It was there I met a young engineer from Gateshead, Clifford Kell. Cliff worked for International Combustion and we became good friends.

Dances were held at the Derby Assembly Rooms and also there were classes in Scottish dancing which were run by two ladies, Mrs Forrest wife of Charlie Forrest editor of the Derby Evening Telegraph and Mrs Milburn wife of Dr Milburn a GP. Mr Forrest had also been a speaker at the church men’s club and had told us about the time in 1934 when he was at the Glasgow Daily Record. It was decided to print the edition reporting the wedding of Princess Marina in ink the same colour as her going away dress. That turned out to be blue. Next day the paper was inundated by calls from people complaining that their bottoms had turned blue.

Mrs Milburn was an ex school teacher and was very nice. Dr Milburn was a bit pompous. Cliff Kell and I were such good friends that Dr Milburn got completely the wrong idea about our relationship. We were delighted to camp it up a bit for him. I do not think he ever tumbled to the deception or ever realised we were merely pulling his leg.

In 1949 Cliff invited me to join him and his girl friend on a walking holiday in the Lake District. I have always loved walking but as I walked then very slowly and walk even more slowly now I thought we ought to go for a preliminary weekend walking holiday. We went to Dovedale, staying in a pub overnight. I must have passed the test for I was allowed to join Cliff and his two friends for the week trip in the Lake District. The two friends were medical students at Liverpool University, Winifride Billington and Doreen Jacobs. We stayed in youth hostels of course. I enjoyed myself so much that towards the end of the week the others got me to ring up Mr Marshall and ask if I could add the weekend to the week I had booked. He reluctantly agreed. I do not think the others fully realised what a commitment general practice was. Cliff never worked weekends. He told me once he had always gone out on a Saturday night. I wished I could say the same. The two girls of course were still students so knew nothing about practice commitments to 24hour/365 days duty.

.

Doreen and Winifride and a very tentative Cliff

During a marvellous week or rather ten days we walked from hostel to hostel and I well remember climbing to the summit of Helvellyn via Striding Edge. I then discovered I was very subject to vertigo. I was terrified by the almost vertical drop either side of the ridge. My fears were augmented by a memorial placed half way along the ridge. The memorial recorded the sad death of a huntsman who had fallen and inevitably been killed. In Derby I reported back to a furious boss who told me I had already had three days of my second week’s leave. Rather than argue with him during my first year with the practice I did not take the second week. Doreen Jacobs was well connected. Her family owned Jacobs biscuits and she lived in a Hall at Southport. I liked both her and Winifride who came from a more modest background in Blackburn, but Winifride’s father was a former medal winning Warrant Officer so it wasn’t all that modest a background! The Lake District trip was in 1949.

Striding Edge: I was terrified

In 1950 I wanted to repeat the holiday we had had in the Lake District. Cliff Kell had other ideas and wanted a sailing holiday. He wished to recruit six people to form a crew to sail a Topsail Schooner “Hoshi” over to France with a paid crew of three making nine people aboard in all.

Not wishing to rush into things blindly I managed to get Cliff to go with me to see this boat. She was lying at Birdham in Chichester Harbour and on a very cold February 1950 day we were rowed out in a small dinghy to see where we were going to spend a two week holiday later that year. The owner Lt Comdr M G (Chunky) Duff and the skipper, Des Sleightholme rowed. I was most impressed with the way Duff rowed with just one great fist wrapped round the handle of his oar. He was and looked a tough cookie. During the war he had been in small boats and regularly so they said went close inshore and shot up the Germans. Des was also a captain, but his wartime service was in the army, not the navy. He was a commando. The skilled yachtsman of the two was Des though. He afterwards became famous as a very successful and world renowned editor of Yachting Weekly. In the paid crew was also Dave the mate and Jock the boy. Dave was rather fond of himself and was the only one to wear a yachting cap. Such are not de rigeur. In fact they are frowned upon.

The Topsail Schooner “Hoshi” 50 tons TM

Hoshi’s paying guest crew was duly assembled. That was Cliff, me, Winifride, Wilf Billington her brother, Jimmie Corrigan Cliff’s school friend and Anthea Gillard who was a sister midwife who worked at Mill Road Maternity Hospital where Winifride and Doreen trained. Doreen had declined saying her sort of sailing holiday involved a steward bearing a tray of drinks.

The holiday aboard Hoshi went very well. We sailed across to Cherbourg and we all had to take turns on watch. I was on watch one night with the youngest member of the crew called Jock. A headland came into view. I was later told off because Jock did not recognise what it was. Des said we ought to have woken him as he almost certainly would have known which headland it was. We just held the course he had set down and completed our watch. Jock had a very strong Hampshire accent. He pronounced Nab Tower, which we passed, as “Nab Tar”. I had to get him to repeat it several times before I cottoned on to what he was saying.

We duly arrived at Cherbourg. The plan there was to drop anchor and then swing round using the engine and secure the vessel by warps from the stern. The vessel was thus to be moored with her bow pointing back out to sea. Des wanted somebody to row in the dinghy to take the bow anchor out to the right position. Cliff was a member of the Derby Rowing Club so he got the job after denying any expertise as we all did. Then came four days or so which we spent in harbour. Every time we wanted to set sail we were told the weather was not good enough. I had not realised until then that the aim of every professional sailor is to stay on dry land as long as possible, in much the same way as nobody is more reluctant to go to war than a soldier. To a sailor the sea means work. We enjoyed our time in France though and bought yachting caps for which Des kindly bought badges at the Cherbourg sailing club.

In the evenings we went out to Cherbourg various night spots.. One night Winifride and Anthea went out by themselves. To get back aboard it was necessary to row the dinghy. “I can row the dinghy” claimed Anthea but she could not and the two ladies were tipped into the dirty waters of Cherbourg harbour to be rescued by onlookers who got them both aboard the ship. Later in the cabin somebody produced Calvados. It being a clear fluid I think perhaps its high alcoholic content was not realised. At any rate Anthea was put to bed in a cabin. This upset her a great deal but I assured her that her getting drunk was the actions of other people not her own.

Anthea had become very fond of Jimmy Corrigan. I think both Anthea and I were not very partial at being thrown together as being the only other non-Roman Catholic people among the paying guests. She also later told me that my appearance when we first met at Chichester Railway Station had rather put her off. I had ridden my motorbike down from Derby and my travel stained face (a poor thing at the best of times) was even less attractive than usual when I took my goggles off.

Tragedy came to me in 1950 when my mother died in Nottingham General Hospital from generalised cancer probably spread from a primary tumour in her ovary. Neither my father nor I were ever given a proper diagnosis. I do not think the medical services in Bulwell were very good.

Anthea had lost her father in Southampton the same year. She had lost her own mother many years before when Anthea was eight years old. Anthea’s first job was with Dr Barnardo’s homes and then she did her general nursing training at Southampton General going on to do midwifery at Mill Road Maternity Hospital, Liverpool.

Anthea aged 17 (during her general training)

Then she moved to Mill Road Maternity Hospital in Liverpool to qualify as a midwife. She was made a sister soon afterwards and she must have been very good for she was made theatre sister at one stage. After that she went on more or less permanent night duty which undermined her health. Dr Clarke, afterwards Sir Cyril Astley Clarke and at that time a consultant at the hospital more or less saved her life by diagnosing Mitral Stenosis. The Medical Superintendent who was supposed to look after the health of the staff, a Dr McPherson was hauled over to coals for it. Anthea had to have a long (6 months) period of bed rest.

Anthea on the district in Liverpool

To return to the cruise after Cherbourg we sailed to Lezardrieux in Brittany and from there to Alderney. Then we had a strong following wind back to Chichester. Des warned me at the helm to on no account allow her to be off course and let the wind get on the wrong side of the sails. In other wards do a gybe-all–standing. This could dismast the boat. This to say nothing about the enormously thick main boom which would have killed anyone whose head had hit it during a gybe. We got back to Chichester safely and I was hooked on sailing. from then on finally progressing to the eleven foot three inch dinghy called a Topper which I technically still have.

Me aboard the Topper

Cliff and Anthea on Alderney

It took a lot of persuasion to get Cliff to go so near to this savage animal

In 1951 Cliff Kell organised yet another trip. This was to Friesland where he hired a sailing cruiser, Wetterfugel, in which we sailed from Drachten across the Zuiderzee (which the Dutch call the Ijsselmeer) to places like Sneek, Stavoren, Harderwijk, Volendam. Enkhuisen, Urk, Hoorn, Marken, Haarlem and on the way back, Sneek.

Wetterfugel: Cliff Anthea and Winifride in the cockpit, Jimmy Corrigan on deck

I took the above photograph from a navigation buoy. They must have picked me up from it later!

Anthea

Although I was in love with her I don’t think Anthea ever thought about marriage. She wanted to be matron of a children’s home. One day we had got pretty close she told me that one of the medical students Johnny Brown at Liverpool was talking about marrying her. “Don’t be silly “I said “You are marrying me”. “Oh am I?” she said. “Of course you are” I replied. Not the most romantic way of proposing but those were the exact words of the conversation. At any rate you can see the result below: It was in Sneek that Anthea and I finally got together. After we were back in England I used to motor over to Liverpool to see her every week on my half days off from the practice. It was supposed to be a half day but it frequently did not start until 6.00pm. Undaunted I used to set off for Liverpool in my own Ford 8 car over the Pennines to Mill Road Maternity Hospital. Anthea as a ward sister had a room to herself and I was permitted to visit her there so long as we kept the door open at all times. After each visit round 10.00pm or so I set off to drive back to Derby usually getting some fish and chips on the way. I had a radio in the car which was unusual in those days but it provided company during the long drives.

She was offered surgery to correct her Mitral Valve. This was done at Broadgreen Hospital by the surgeon Ronnie Edwards whose father was a veterinary surgeon. After the operation which was done by the finger splitting technique she convalesced at Winifride’s home in Coniston Road, Blackburn being looked after by her mother Mrs Billington and Winifride’s father, pop Billington. They were marvellous.

Once she was able to resume work we got engaged. She used to travel over to Derby to visit me and stayed in the digs I then had with a Mr & Mrs Hall. Later still she worked for six months at Derby Royal Infirmary where she was in charge of the premature baby unit.

The bride

The Bridesmaids

Top Wendy Gillard (sister), Jean Hall (half sister)

Margaret Gillard and Mary Smith (nieces)

Best Man Stanley Osbourne, me and Cliff Kell (Usher)

The little chap on the right is one of the Marshall twins

Jean, Stan, Margaret, me, Anthea, Bob, Mary, Wendy

Larger group

I must tell you something about the people in the above photographs. Jean is Jean Hall nee Gillard and Anthea’s half sister as her father had been married three times, producing progeny every time! Stanley Osbourne was a Derby friend of Cliff and me.

Margaret was Anthea’s niece the eldest daughter of Capt. Bob Gillard MBE her half brother who gave her away.. Bob is next to Anthea in the top photograph. Mary is Mary Smith another niece of Anthea and daughter of her sister Paddy (Patricia). Wendy is Wendy Gillard, Anthea’s sister, also a midwife.

In the lower photograph my aunt Elsie (Green) is on the left. She was my father’s sister and next to her is Alice (Cunningham) another of my father’s sisters. Both Elsie and Alice were matrons of honour. Next to Alice is my father himself. I may say he wanted to wear his cap to the wedding but we talked him out of that. Next to my father is Jean Hall nee Gillard and above her Geoff Green my cousin who was son to Aunt Elsie and who was at Henry Mellish School with me. On his right is Stanley Osbourne and below him Margaret Gillard. On Anthea’s left is her brother, Capt. Bob Gillard reported in the Nottingham paper as corporal Gillard!

Cliff Kell is on his right and below him Mary Smith, then Wendy, then May Gillard the last of Anthea’s father’s wives. After the wedding May said she was now my mother but I am afraid I refuted this, saying I already had a mother. Perhaps I was unkind but May had proved a hard stepmother to Anthea. She would not allow Anthea to take up a scholarship to Southampton Art College but kept her at home to look after baby Jean and baby Charles another half brother. She also destroyed all the photographs of Anthea’s mother, and only a few survive.

I should also say what happened to Stanley Osbourne. We fell out after the wedding when he rang me up asking for a loan. I had always been warned never to make loans to a friend or the friend would be lost and also perhaps the money too. Stan had been given money by his father to pay a bill. I declined to give him a loan and told him to go and tell his father. He put the telephone down saying he did not want to listen to any preaching from me. He made a similar telephone request to Cliff Kell who must have been more kind-hearted or less Calvinistic than me because Cliff gave him the money. Cliff eventually did get it back but Stanley soon faded into Cliff’s background too.

Bride and groom

Leaving for the reception

Cutting the cake

The reception was in Nottingham at the County Hotel. It went very well. Stan as best man was in his element. Poor Nancy Gillard, Bob’s wife was occupied most of the time ferrying her two younger daughters to the lavatory.

Anthea was driven by my father to lay a wreath on my mother’s grave. That was a very nice touch and entirely Anthea’s idea.

We set off for out honeymoon in France in my father’s Ford Prefect car. In 1953 things in Britain were still very austere and the Prefect was regarded as a rather superior car it being all of ten horse power. There were a number of items tied on the car and a kipper was on the exhaust pipe. I stopped just outside Nottingham to remove all these and some tinkers driving a horse drawn cart were creasing themselves laughing but we made our way to an hotel in Canterbury, stopping on the way for me to purchase a set of pyjama’s, Edith Marshall by boss’s wife had thoughtfully sewn up mine. One of the Marshall twins is seen in a photograph above wearing a kilt.

In France we stayed in Lille one night then made our way to Annecy just south of Geneva and from there to le Lavandou near to St Tropez o the Mediterranean coast. After that we retraced our steps along almost the same route. It was a wonderful fortnight.

CHAPTER ONE

EARLY DAYS

The Schooner Hoshi

The Schooner “Hoshi” 50 tons TM

The 72 feet of the 50 ton topsail schooner “Hoshi” moved rhythmically up and down as she rode the swell of the English Channel. I was seated in the stern with my hands on the enormous wheel keeping a watchful eye on the compass in the binnacle. I was fearful of doing an involuntary gibe. This would happen if I relaxed my concentration and allowed the wind to get the wrong side of the huge mainsail. Then the boom would whip over and as this was a spar of at least one foot diameter the consequences for anyone who was hit by it just did not bear thinking about. The boat could be dismasted. The skipper had shown enormous trust in my skill despite this being the very first time I had been at the helm of a vessel. I did not realise at the time how that voyage was to alter the course of my life forever.
What on earth was I doing there? I was a 24 year old lad from Bulwell Nottingham a town which is 72 miles from the sea? I had never sailed a boat before. I must explain that I was part of an amateur crew of six who were paying guests of the owner. Lt-Commander “Chunky” Duff who had found that in 1950 to finance the boat he had owned before the war he had to take in paying guests. Hoshi had once been the private yacht of Admiral Earl Beatty. He was the hero of the battle of Jutland 12 May 1916. Beatty was afterwards First Sea Lord. Beatty had served in the Far East. We were told that “Hoshi” is Japanese made up of two words, “Ho” and “Shi” meaning East and West. Many years later I was told by a Japanese Architect that “Hoshi” means “Star”, West is “Nishi” and East is “Higashi” so now we know the truth at long last. When Beatty sailed her she had a crew of 16 all decked out in whites. Under Lt Commander Duff’s ownership she was rigged like a Thames barge so as to cut down her sail area and allow her to be sailed by a crew of three. We did have a professional crew of three. The skipper was Des Sleightholme who afterwards became famous as the editor of “Yachting World”. He was a wonderful teacher.

Bill at the help

Me at the helm. Note yachting cap……..No yachtsman EVER wears one

Also aboard additional to me were five paying guests, none of whom had previously sailed. On this very breezy day all these were seasick. Seated at the wheel I found I could easily retain the contents of my stomach. In fact it was probably the effects of the fresh air and the fact that I was concentrating on keeping the ship sailing on the course laid down by Des. At any rate I was not seasick and was I suppose rather cocky about that. The faces of the other amateur crew members were distressing to say the least and I kept my cocky views to myself. However I felt pleased with myself for being able to helm this huge boat. It may also have been the case that I do not have a well developed vomiting centre in my brain. Horses do not have a vomiting centre. At any rate I have never been seasick or felt sick except when aboard a smelly engined craft hanging upside down trying to coax a reluctant engine to start.

Seasick

The Seasick crew

It was a strange series of events which had brought us all together. I had met the organiser of the party, Cliff Kell when we were both members of the Derby Scottish Dancing Club. He was a genius at selling. He wanted to make up a party of six to be able to book Hoshi for a two week cruise from Chichester to Brittany and back home via the Channel Islands. Cliff’s fiancée was a medical student Winifride Billington. To keep her company she in turn invited a Sister Midwife, Anthea Gillard.

Anthea and Winifride

Bulwell Market Place

Bulwell Market Place

Bulwell a small coal mining community and a district of Nottingham was where I was born in 1926 to

General Strike

William Thornton Jackson and Elizabeth Jackson nee Martin. Times were hard in 1926.

This was the year of the General Strike. The General Strike (illustrated left) hit colliers hard. I was very lucky to have good parents who were much older than parents usually are.

They had been married for 19 years before I was born. My mother was then 43 and my father was 45.

I was a three times attempted forceps delivery performed at home by Dr W J Candlish, attended by “nurse” Robinson. Dr Candlish afterwards became my godfather. My mother was in labour for forty hours. With all respect due to Dr Candlish I am lucky to be alive! Candlish also later circumcised me and ruined my chances of joining the Gestapo.

Billy at 9 weeks

Mum and me when I was 9 weeks old. My mum was great!

Billy at 9 weeks with Nurse Robinson

Me aged 8 weeks with Nurse Robinson.

I must have spent a lot of time in the studio in those days. Nurse Robinson was unqualified. She used to be a dispenser (unqualified) at Dr Candlish’s practice and then set up a private nursing home. She had a daughter Nurse Nellie, who qualified SRN though that was much later.

Billy at 1 year old

Me in September 1927 when I would be just over one year old.

My parents had lived in the house where I was born, 49 Commercial Road (formerly Quarry Road), Bulwell since shortly after they married on June 8th 1907. My mother’s parents lived at that time next door at number 51. Like all the other houses in the terrace it had three floors, four bedrooms upstairs. Downstairs there was the dining room, the kitchen the scullery and of course the front room which was normally the parlour but now had been converted to a shop. Parlours in Bulwell were sacrosanct places which were never used. An aspidistra plant was often located there together with family portraits and treasured items of china. The aspidistra would be dusted regularly and in this coalmining area there was plenty of dust.

Commercial Road

Me at 49 Commercial Road, Bulwell, about 1984
By that time it had reverted to a private house

In our house there was no bathroom or inside lavatory, the lavatory was out in the yard. There was usually no lavatory paper in it. Torn up bits of newspaper were used instead. To digress I am reminded of the story that when Princess Marina of Greece was married in the 1930’s to the Duke of Kent the Glasgow Evening Record promised to print their next edition in ink the same colour as Princess Marina’s going away dress. That turned out to be blue. Next day the Glasgow Evening Record was inundated with calls from people complaining about their blue bottoms.
The only water we had in the house was a single cold tap over a stone sink. Dad used to sharpen knives on the stone. Later we had a very small electrically powered water heater which produced about two gallons of hot water. Dad was so pleased with this he used to bring people in from the shop and proudly demonstrate it to them. Dad had set up a hardware shop shortly after he married on June 8th 1910, using the bow window of the front downstairs room as a shop front. For baths a tin bath was on very rare occasions filled but washing was normally at the stone sink. In the bedrooms wash hand basins and commodes were available but as these required to be emptied by hand their use was frowned upon by those who had to do the emptying. Mother used to lock all the doors to the dining room and have a good wash using a flannel and soap. We males did not bother. Baths were regarded as weakening by the males of Bulwell. No houses in Bulwell in those days were equipped with a bath. When a benevolent council built houses with bathrooms the story (almost certainly apocryphal) was that the miners would only use the bath to keep coal in.

The Jackson family in later days (ca 1953)
From left, Dad, Anthea, Aunt Alice Cunningham,
Col. Jim Cunningham, Aunt Elsie Green and Dorothy Green

The front door of our Victorian terrace house became the door of the shop and inside the former parlour Dad had a counter running at ninety degrees to the direction of the shop front. Soon it became a cycle shop and later sold motorcycles and cars on commission. A petrol tank was sunk into the alley of number 51. It had a hand pump. It was probably the first petrol pump in Bulwell. Further up the alley dad had a small oil store. Petrol sales had earlier started using cans only which were stored in a steel container kept in the back yard.
My father rented the house and under the terms of the then operative Rent Act only paid a very small weekly rent (12/6 now 66P) which, to the probable fury of the subsequent owner of the property, could not by law be raised. Furthermore by the time this new owner, Sam Wilkinson, took over, Dad had virtually converted the property from a Victorian terrace house to a small shop with storage space behind in the roofed over back yard where many bicycles were stored. By adding to that the petrol pump and the oil store installed in the alley my father had rather encroached. I suppose this was only possible because the previous tenants of number 51 had been my maternal grandparents.
Dad had also purchased a large allotment at the top of Severn Street which was just round the corner, but instead of growing vegetables he erected three brick built garages which he let. One caught fire in 1926 and mother held me in her arms when she called the fire brigade out. Dad went up to the garages and managed to get his car out because he had left the car in neutral with the handbrake off. Two other cars burnt out. Charred wood doorposts remained as evidence of the fire. The asbestos roofs were replaced. Also on the land was half a surplus wooden army hut which was very large. Many cycles were stored in that. My father told me that at one time he had a stock of 300 new bikes.

He also made a grass tennis court of part of the allotment. He employed Fred Ridge, a friend who was either out of work or certainly in need of extra income in those hard times. Dad got the grass seed from the bottom of haystacks. The surrounding fence was made out of old crates used to ship in the bicycles by rail. My dad was nothing if not frugal but times were hard and he ended up with a very nice tennis court. He had to buy the net of course and also the white-lining machine which was pushed along filled with whitewash. It had to be kept very steady if you wanted a straight line.

Billy escaping from Pram

Me trying to get out of my pram
It was in the tennis court
You can see one of the white lines and the fence made out of old bicycle crates

After the tennis court was made a lawnmower was needed. Dad was always a good businessman and bought one wholesale, getting himself appointed as the Qualcast agent for Bulwell. Similarly after I was born a pram was needed and dad secured the Bulwell agency for Elite Prams! The ex-army shed on Severn Street allotment was felt roofed and Dad had the agency for Pluvex Felt too.

Mum on the court wearing a hat

Mum on the Tennis Court

The road up to the Allotment was only just wide enough for a car. It was crudely paved with ash from a local power station. The road ran alongside a sandstone quarry which was perhaps 100 feet deep. There was a sheer drop down separated by a hawthorn hedge with many gaps. The drop terrified me. I have always suffered from vertigo. I believe vertigo is caused by a too vivid imagination but perhaps I am wrong. The quarry of course gave its name to Quarry Road. Owned by the McCarthy brothers the quarry business latterly made bricks marketed as Special Pressed Whites. These were used by the construction industry for internal walls.

Tib

“Tib”

My father was very fond of cats and when I was born he had a black cat called “Tib” an entire tomcat. Dad was told to get rid of Tib because he would lie on top of my face and suffocate me. Dad refused to get rid of the cat and Tib used to lie on top of my pram. Dad put up a runway for Tib to get on to the roof over the back yard.
I can remember events which could only have taken place when I was aged two years. I am not alone in that for I know of others who did the same. My earliest memory was of lots and lots of water surrounding my pram. It could only have been when we were on holiday in Huntingdonshire and there were large flooded areas around. I would have been two years old at that time.
For the first four years of my life I played happily in the shop or up at the Severn Street property which we called the garage. My mother did much of the business work and looked after the shop during the day. That started sometimes at 6.00am when lorries owned by a Mr Horry, would arrive and five or six gallons of petrol would be served into each. These were I think the only lorries which bought petrol from my father. With their comparatively large tanks Mr Horry was a good customer. One who was worth getting up at 6.00am for. The shop shut at 9.00pm so it was a long day. Very like the shop featured in the TV programme “Open All Hours”. Dad wore an overall coat and looked rather like Ronnie Barker sans moustache.
I can only remember two employees of my father. Dick Bowyer lived in Basford the next door district to Bulwell. He was I thought very clever. He worked up at the garage, which was the large ex-army shed at the Severn Street Allotment. Dick found a way of making electricity using the motor lawnmower. No wonder I thought him very clever. He went into the army as soon as war broke out and I never saw him again but I think he survived the war. George Baumber succeeded him. George was a gangly youth who was a farmer’s son from Hucknall, again a nearby town. George had outgrown his strength. George was no intellectual. My father was very scathing when after being asked to ride a bicycle to the Raleigh works, a place I had often been to myself by bike, George replied “I don’t know me road.” Farming was in dire straits just before the war. George was no doubt quoting his father when he blamed everything on the Milk Marketing Board. George said there would be a revolution in the country before long. There was a revolution of course, in the shape of farming subsidies and the Central Agricultural Policy of the European Union which made farmers rich beyond the dreams of avarice, at least for a very long time.
My mother was so busy with the business that I had to have nannies. They were not trained nannies but served the same purpose and of course I loved each one dearly. There was Nancy, Audrey and Margery and perhaps others also but I can’t now remember all their names.

All the films were in black and white

During these long working days both my parents would get away for relaxation. My father used to go to the cinema and see movies with actors such as Fatty Arbuckle, Slim Summerville, Charlie Chaplin, Tom Wall or Ralph Lynn. He also used to go to the Bulwell Church Institute in Robinson’s Hill. The Institute had little to do with the church. It was a working man’s club. Dad loved to play billiards there but snooker was not popular for some reason. He was treasurer of the Institute and when the great Joe Davis (world snooker and billiards champion) came to play an exhibition match dad was chosen to play him.
My mother’s hobbies were to go to Nottingham shopping. To Smart and Brown’s furniture store or to Toby’s in Friars Lane which sold fine china.
On one occasion Dad had driven mum to Nottingham, stopped at one point and then drove on. He talked as he drove. After a bit he thought “it is funny, she ain’t saying anything”. He looked round and she was not there “Christ” he said, “She’s fell out!” He drove back to where he had been and there was mum looking into a shop window. She had got out of the car to look at the shop window and never realised Dad had driven away.
I wrote above that I played happily in the shop. That was true but one day I stepped on a metal cycle mudguard, and as these things will do, it leapt up at me and cut me on the lower lip going very deep. I do not remember the event at all but I still have the scar. My father was very upset and rushed me up to the doctor who decided not to stitch the wound. I must say the scar is hardly noticeable. I would love to be able to write that the scar marred an otherwise classically handsome face but I have many times been told that I “am no oil painting”. Despite my lack of matinee idol good looks I eventually managed to persuade Anthea June Gillard to marry me and Anthea and I were married in 1953 at St John’s Church, Bulwell, Nottingham by the Rector, Canon George Sprittles.

Bulwell

Bulwell
The St John’s Church tower is on the right

Dad had begun life in a small nearby village called Watnall where his father was joiner and wheelwright. Dad attended the same school as famous author David Herbert Lawrence but not at the same time. They shared a schoolmaster in the shape of the redoubtable Gaffer Whitehead. Lawrence mentions him. Dad was very impressed with Gaffer Whitehead and grateful to him for an education which stopped at age 14, which was usual in those days. Few people stayed at school beyond that age. The other famous Lawrence, Lawrence of Arabia, T E Lawrence, also had a nebulous connection with Bulwell for he used to ride a Brough Superior motor cycle and the Brough works were in Bulwell. Sadly it was on a Brough Superior motorcycle that Lawrence was killed.
Dad’s first job was in Watnall Hall Gardens. Watnall Hall was owned by Lt-General Sir Lancelot Rolleston VC, the squire and a friend of Lord Baden-Powell who founded the Boy Scout movement. The head gardener was called Mr Peat, (and I am not making this up!). Dad never really took to gardening but it was a start. He remembered digging out bramble roots to act as the base of roses which would be grafted on to the bramble stock by Mr Peat or his staff.

My Father in 1898

My father in 1898
Picture taken in North Finchley, London

Soon Dad was off to North Finchley to become an apprentice wheelwright. He was articled to a relative, another Jackson. Dad told me of the beautiful carriages they made, all bright with varnish. Sometimes twenty coats of varnish would be added and each coat rubbed down before the next coat was applied. He stayed in that job for the whole of his seven year apprenticeship and I think would have been there for much longer but at home he met my mother, Elizabeth Martin. He always spoke fondly of his North Finchley days. There were a number of apprentices for him to chum up with including a first cousin, Sam Jackson, who afterwards kept the Salisbury Arms a public house in Winchmore Hill, a very posh area, which remains so. Whilst in London he played football as an amateur. I suspect he was a good footballer for his team won the amateur league early in the 1900’s. Dad was always in demand and never liked to say “No” and was sometimes in trouble because he had promised himself to more that one team. Sadly his footballing came to an end once he started in business for the shop had to come first and that meant Saturdays were occupied.
Dad was also very interested in cricket and once had a trial for Nottinghamshire County Cricket Club (Notts). He played a lot of village cricket. Once he was playing for Oxton village team and doing rather well batting at the crease. His Uncle James Hopkin who lived at Oxton Mill, said, “That’s my nephew batting there. I never saw him sit amiss nor stand amiss.” What James Hopkin meant by these words I am not sure, but Dad was very pleased. Playing cricket cost dad a broken nose. They were throwing the ball to each other and dad was hitting it with a bat. He missed and the ball broke his nose. It was never set properly so dad had a nose like a boxer for the rest of his life. Medical and dental treatment was rough in those days. Dad told me that a Bulwell dentist called Lympany used to ask patients, “Can you stand pain?” If the answer was yes the tooth could be extracted at half the price. I think sixpence rather than the shilling it cost if you demanded anaesthetic.

.

James Hopkin

James Hopkin at Oxton Mill

Dad used to talk about the great team of Billy Gunn and Arthur Shrewsbury and how they took a very long time to amass a score. But not a Notts player called Ted Alletson. Dad remembered seeing a headline ALLETSON in an evening paper and wondered what it meant. The story is that Notts were playing Sussex at Hove on May 20 1911. When Alletson went in to bat Notts were in a hopeless condition but with 189 scored in 90 minutes by Alletson victory for Notts was secured. To cite just one over off Killick, this included 2 no-balls, 4,6,6,4,4,4,6 = 34. Alletson was a big man 6 foot six inches tall and came from Welbeck where his father was a wheelwright.
Dad used to often reminisce about his North London days and talked of the suits he bought at the Fifty Shilling Tailors in Severn Sisters Road and of the times when a group of apprentices regularly swam in the local baths. Overhearing them constantly boasting about their aquatic exploits and skills somebody called Uncle Jim decided to teach them a lesson. One day when they were together in the pool Uncle Jim appeared on the very top deck of an enormous diving tower. He executed a perfect dive, came out and departed without a word to anyone.
Here I should mention that what Dad always called the house where he was born, “The Ode Om”. This had land sufficient to house a Welsh pony called Taffy. Taffy was never broken with cruelty but broken with kindness. He never had the stick in his life. He was later retired to Fountain Dale where my Aunt Mary-Jane Shipside (nee Jackson) had an estate. I was told on good authority that Taffy was very bad tempered.
In the picture below Uncle Frank Jackson is my father’s brother, Tom is another brother, Billy Owen is a mysterious cousin, Kitty Jackson is my father’s brother Levi’s daughter (hence my cousin) and Taffy is himself!

Taffy

Picture taken in the orchard of the old home
Frank,Tom, Billy Owen, Kitty Jackson and Taffy.

At the ‘Ode Om’ they also kept a pig or pigs and when the time came to kill a pig Dad was obliged to help whilst the animal was killed by cutting its throat. That was what cottagers did in those days

Grandma Jackson, Philip Shipside and Freda Green

Grandma Jackson, Philip Shipside (left) and Freda Green

They also kept hens. One day my grandmother asked one of her sons, very sweetly, “And what would you like for breakfast my son?” “I’d like an egg, mother”. “You’ll lay it then!” was the speedy reply. Freda Green is my Aunt Elsie’s elder daughter. I don’t know who Phillip Shipside is but there were two branches of the Shipside family and he may be the son of Bert Shipside who I never met. Tom Shipside married Grandma Jackson’s eldest daughter, Mary-Jane.

William Gillison Jackson

My Grandfather William Gillison Jackson (1850-1907)
outside the old Home. He died from a cut hand & septicaemia. No penicillin in those days
With the number of sons she had times were hard for my paternal grandmother. Shirts she made out of a roll of material. A hole for the head would be cut and hemmed but no collar was made. In those days they wore detachable collars which could be bought. Then the arms would be cut out, fashioned and stitched up. That was the shirt problem solved. My father and his brothers loved to tease her. They had a billiard table. Play was forbidden on Sundays so they used to bash the balls together to make the familiar sound of billiards being played without actually playing.
Arrived back in Bulwell Dad courted Mum for five years. They went for walks mainly. He always asked her if she would like some chocolates and then would produce a golden sovereign as payment. She would say she didn’t want him to break into a sovereign and so did without the chocolates. This went on for several weeks and then she said,” Give me that sovereign, I want some chocolates!”
Before she married mother was an Overlooker in a lace factory. The system was of piece work and the lace makers did not get paid unless their work was passed by the Overlooker. So it was a responsible job. My mother would have been a terror to work for. Nothing would escape her eagle eye I am quite sure.
All her sisters went into service apart from her youngest sister, Aunt Florrie, who had studied cookery but now just came in every day to cook our meals, arriving mid-morning and leaving after teatime. My mother’s contribution to the housekeeping duties was to make jam. She did not profess to be a cook. In any case she was very busy always in the shop for my father often left the shop in her hands. For example in an attempt to sell a bicycle he would ride a bike and push a new bike alongside it to the pithead where he had been told there was a collier interested in buying. If the sale failed he just rode the two bikes home. Deferred payment or hire purchase was the norm. Some of the bikes only cost just over one pound but the purchaser would pay off the sum owed over the course of many weeks. It all made a lot of work for the book keeper who was my mother.

Shonky Pit, Bulwell

‘Shonky’ Pit Bulwell

On the road outside our shop miners would be seen riding along with strapped to their waist a round metal container holding cold tea and a tin box for their snap (sandwiches). They would be wearing knee protectors. Coming home they would have the same items but now their faces would be black with coal dust. There were no pithead baths in those days. They had exactly the same washing facilities as we did. As in our house bathing would be in a tin bath kept hanging on the wall when not in use. It was a miner’s wife’s job to scrub his back. Their Davis Safety Lamps were all numbered and left behind because then the operators of the pit would be able to calculate who was still down the pit. No-one was allowed to take matches or tobacco down the pit because of the risk of fire damp (methane gas). The pit was always a dangerous place and many of my family had been seriously injured
My mother’s father, Tom Martin (after whom I was named), was a coal miner as were all her brothers. Tom Martin had been injured in the mines which was a common occurrence. As part of his compensation he was awarded a concession to cart miners’ coals. Every miner was allowed a certain amount of coal, I think perhaps five tons. The coal had to be collected at the pit head and this was the job of my grandfather. He had a horse and cart, perhaps two horses come to think of it. In fact Dad had used his skills as wheelwright to make Granddad a cart in the back yard. Do not ask me how they got it out! It must have been taken out in pieces. Grandfather Martin charged sixpence a load to collect the coal and shoot it up outside the collier’s house. It was a regular thing to see heaps of coal in the road waiting to be barrowed into the back yard coal house. I am sure such a practice would not now be allowed. As well as a lavatory each house had its own coal house in the back yard.
Some jealous person tried to muscle in on the concession granted to Tom Martin and so he walked about ten miles to where the owner of the colliery (a Mr Sealey) lived and told this grand person all about it. Mr Sealey said very little. All he said was “Go down to the kitchen and the butler will give you something to eat. Then go back to Bulwell and get some of that good Bulwell air into your lungs and wait and see what happens.” His use of the phrase “Good Bulwell air” is evidence that he was not often in that area! The concession was restored. But a few years on someone else tried it on. “I still know my road to Mr Sealy’s” said grandfather. And that was the end of that.
The pit was properly called Bulwell Hall Colliery but it was always known to us as “Shonkie”. There was a local dialect which takes some understanding if you are not familiar with it. A favourite greeting would be “A-up surrey” followed perhaps by “tha must keep on the cawsey that knows.” The first part is simply a greeting and is perhaps Shakespearean English, “Sirrah”. The second part is “You must keep on the causeway/pavement/sidewalk and is probably from the French word “chaussee” there were a lot of Huguenots in Nottingham at one time, attracted perhaps by the textile industry. If so they would have brought French with them.
Bulwell Hall was at one time owned by landed gentry. It is said that two of the brothers in the family quarrelled over possession of a horse. The brother who lost the argument went and shot the horses dead. When I knew it it had become a municipal golf course and a poor one at that. It was only nine holes. The fairways when I played on it were more like rough. The grass was so long it required a good shot to get any distance.
The coal industry was dangerous and many miners were injured including my cousin George who as a result of an accident down the pit was confined to a wheelchair, courtesy of Winifred Duchess of Portland. She also helped set him up in a shop but I do not think the shop did very well. It is interesting that in 2006 the present Duke of Portland is an actor who has a part in a TV soap opera. Cousin George’s father was also George, married to Aunt Hannah, a lady of some spirit. The story goes that Uncle George took it upon himself to lie down fully stretched on the hearth, which would have a blazing fire. A hearthrug made of rags stitched to a canvas backing would be before the fire. Aunt Hannah took offence at this behaviour, thinking it was uncouth, and she fetched him a crack on the ankle with a poker. Uncle George then chased her round the furniture for a while but failing to catch her gave up. They were a very loving couple when I met them, though no doubt saddened by the injury to young George. Old George met his death in a tragic accident after he retired. He was supervising a lorry which was backing into a gateway and he was crushed by the vehicle and killed.
Customers and visitors to our shop in Bulwell were very frequent. One person who was frequently in the shop was my cousin Tommy Martin. Tommy was a socialist who read the Communist Daily Worker every day. He was well informed and subscribed to Hansard. His job was a representative of the National Provident which provided credit to working class people. People would buy a Provident Cheque and use it for purchase up to the amount on the cheque. My father used to sell bicycles on credit and I suspect some of the credit came from this organisation.
All my father’s family were craftsmen who had served apprenticeships. Two younger brothers did not because there was no money to pay the premium for them after my Grandfather died. The two younger brothers went into the motor trade. None of my father’s family went into the collieries. This was in contrast to the maternal side for all the males on my mother’s side were miners. The Jackson side’s only connection with the pits was my grandfather who worked as a joiner at the pithead; that is when he was not working as a joiner, undertaker and wheelwright for himself at his home. Dad was proud of his father’s skills. He said that Granddad had templates for many things. Using templates he could make a wooden wheelbarrow very quickly indeed. Unfortunately he had no head for strong drink and would come home occasionally very drunk and would be unable to go to work the next day. It put my father off drinking alcohol for life.

Dad used to do the occasional funeral. In those days village joiners made coffins and acted as undertakers. Dad said he was never a very good undertaker because he could never keep a straight face. At one funeral he handed the death certificate to the vicar as he thought. A few minutes later and after the burial, a white-faced vicar came up to dad who had inadvertently handed him a hymn sheet, not the burial certificate.
Dad had a fond of stories. One of his favourites (and mine) is about Lloyd George and Lord Derby who were both very important politicians. Derby was a member of the distinguished Stanley family and had served in a number of important government posts. Lloyd George was Prime Minister during WW1. Lloyd George had a large moustache and very long bushy hair. The story goes the two were together in a railway carriage and were joined by a very talkative man who insisted on being friendly with them both. Finally Lord Derby gave him a cigar to shut him up. Not a bit of it “Damn fine cigar this,” said the man and continued to talk. Then the train happened to stop and Lord Derby got out. Exasperated by this time Lloyd George said “My man do you know who that was who gave you the cigar?” “No I haven’t the foggiest” said the man, after a pause. “Well,” said Lloyd George “that was Lord Derby.” “What THE LORD DERBY?” “It was none other” came the answer. “Well he’d think we were a rum pair of buggers, I ain’t had a shave as a week and yo want yer ‘air cutting!”
He told the tale of a bowlegged man (Couldn’t stop a pig in a passage!). The man was told that if he kept on saying to himself “Me legs is straight, me legs is straight” they would straighten. “But do not on any account look down” he was told. The man carried on for a long time and eventually could not resist looking down. He then found he was knock-kneed.
Then there was the tale of the keen gardener who complained bitterly that he could never get any length on his carrots. “It’s those colliers down there.” He said, “They keep nibbling the ends off.”
A true story was one involving a Morris car. Dad sold these on commission for his brother-in-law who had founded Shipside’s Garage Limited, area agents for Morris cars. Tom Shipside was married to my Aunt Mary-Jane (mentioned earlier). Dad drove a Morris car to Shipside’s and then as he thought, drove it back home. But it was the wrong Morris car. Its rightful owner was very wroth with Dad but cars of the same make are like peas in a pod and Dad could not see what all the fuss was about. In those more trusting days of course ignition keys were often left in cars.

William Thornton Jackson