The beginning
The 8th day of May 1913 was a special day for my parents; Joshua Sims and Hilda Louise, of Woodgrange Avenue, Finchley, North London, for it was my Birthday.
We did not stay there long. Dad bought a house at Billericay – what a marvellous name – in Essex. It was a new house, four bedrooms, built by a builder named Iles. How do I know? Just one of those things I suppose. Drawing Room, Dining Room with French Doors, big Hall, large flag-stoned Kitchen and a Scullery down a couple of steps to the back door. A very large garden, fields all round (sic). The address was “Woodgrange”, Stock Road. I wonder why? In honour of my having been born at Woodgrange Avenue?
I’ve grown a bit by now and the War has started. The house was large but I always remember it as being warm and cosy. Of course we had coal and log fires, and in the Kitchen a large coal-fired range, where all the water was heated and the cooking done. Lighting was by paraffin lamps on the tables and candles and night lights. The furniture was made especially by “Maples” of Tottenham Court Road, London. We had a gramophone (HMV), a piano and a music box. By the way, I was Christened at the Church in Hockley, a nearby village – in the same Church and font where King Cnut was Christened in 1016. He was of course a Dane and tried to stop the tide coming in.
Time passes but my memory does not seem to fade because I remember my brother Ray as a baby being bathed in front of the Kitchen range. He was born in August 1915, then Stanley was born in April 1917.
Meanwhile Dad had gone off to the War. He volunteered and joined the London Rifle Brigade, the foot sloggers (one hundred and twenty to the minute) . He did his training in Wiltshire at a place called Fovant. They were the famous “6th Division (London)” and he went out to France in 1916 as a Signaller, Lewis Gunner, B….. (handwriting indistinct), and Rifleman. As a Lewis Gunner he was Number Two on the Gun. In one action the No. 1, a Sergeant (?), got the Military Medal – I don’t know why Dad didn’t get one as well! He must have had the odd bits of leave because Stanley was born in 1917 and my Sister Kathleen in October 1918. Not bad going as Dad was taken prisoner in “The Great German Onslaught” of 28th March 1918. He did not go to a Prisoner of War Camp, but was made to scavenge for the Bosche behind the lines ’til after the War, when he was allowed to make his own way home.
The prisoners had to fend for themselves food-wise and had a terrible time. Dad wrote a book about it which in his lifetime he could not get published. Perhaps one day one of you boys will be able to do something about it? [Author’s note: I have a copy of the book and I will Dad!] I am not sure exactly when he did arrive home, but when he did he was in a pretty bad state for he had been kicked in the groin by a horse in Belgium and he had a very bad abscess; and was confined to bed for some time.
Mother of course had no news of Dad except a telegram from the War Office which said Private Harries missing believed Killed in Action. This of course was due to the Huns not notifying the authorities of his Capture. Anyway, as soon as he made his way back to the Coast she was informed that he was alive.
I’ve a story to tell about that later if I get to it, but in the early Summer of 1918 two policemen knocked at our door. They had come to arrest my Father for failing to register for Service. My Mother showed them the telegram and they went away empty-handed with their tails between their legs. I remember that as if it were yesterday and I was only five years old at the time.
Those War years must have been quite difficult for Mother: a large house; huge garden; no transport except once a week on Friday a bus passed our house on the way to Ingatestone. Mother used to catch it sometimes because it was possible to get eggs in the market at Ingatestone. Rationing was very strict. Her biggest problem was coal. There were no deliveries so she had to push the pram to Billericay Station Yard and collect some and wheel it home; two or three miles each way; a country road; no pavement except for a short distance out of the village. She had help in the house. We had a maid or servants as they were called in those days. I remember one who was called Lydia. She had a starched blue uniform, and when she was cleaning the grate I used to pull her skirt up over her head, which showed her blue knickers which came down to her knees. That must have been later on, because she used to chase Stanley around the room singing a song she made up about “chasing the boy round the room”!