Meanwhile Claire and I were married in 1937; the ceremony performed by my old pal Bill Fussell at Epsom Registry Office. We had not planned to marry quite so soon but Claire’s Mother died in March 1937 – she was only 50. It was a terrible shock – she had a stroke. It was very sudden! After her Mother’s death Claire continued to work and lived at home in Tooting with her Father and Brother. Things became a little difficult because her Brother’s Girlfriend came to stay, and all was not so easy going. Claire eventually went to live with her Sister Ethel at Hayes in Middlesex, and we decided to get married.
We found a very nice ground floor flat at Carshalton. Quite expensive for those days; 29/6 a week (nearly £1.50-Ed) but we had parquet flooring, a resident porter, who kept the halls and stairs clean, looked after the very nice gardens and the two hard tennis courts which were for the use of the tenants.
There were about 60 young couples and many of us were good friends. Various occupations; several Imperial Airways Pilots. Croydon was the Aerodrome in those days, just up the road from us. I played Football for Carshalton and a bit of Golf at Hackbridge – a nine hole effort – and at Sanderstead with Jack Richardson, a Scot who lived in one of the flats with his Mother and Sister. He worked at Venners, the “Time Switch” people on the Kingston Bypass. (Venners made time-switches for controlling street lighting. Google will find them if you are interested-Ed). We had a jolly good pub adjoining the entrance to the flats – The Windsor Castle (still going strong-Ed) – run by a chap Doug Foster and his Wife; a very pleasant couple who sold Gin at 6 1/2 d (about 3 pence) and Whiskey at 7 1/2d (about 4 pence) and Beer at 5d a Pint (about 2 pence).
Although I say it myself, our time at Wynash Gardens was a happy period. We had a comfortable time and although I was away quite a lot, I was home at weekends from Friday to Monday – except when I went to Scotland which was usually a ten day trip. We spent out time trying to produce a Son! There was no mucking about and he was no accident! Antony was born on 23 December 1938, so Claire did not carry on her job at Price Forbes for long. What a night that was! We went to The Windsor Castle for the evening with some of our flat mates. There was snow on the ground and we played snowballs on the way home. It was cold and frosty. When we got in, about Midnight, we got some coal in and lit the fire in the Bedroom. We often did this at night; even had Supper in bed sometimes! Dad’s car was outside so that I had transport in case of an emergency and so it happened that night! The alarm bell went soon after we were in bed. The roads were so icy that I did not want to drive, so I rang for an ambulance. Antony was born about 6 o’clock (a.m.) in the Cottage Hospital at Carshalton. I went back to the hospital at 8.30 in the morning and there they were, sitting up in bed. At least Claire was; the baby was in her arms. That was a Christmas that was!
Here I must say something that has haunted me all my life. The boy was to be named after me and his Grandfather, but I’d had an upset with Dad. I don’t know what it was about – we were friends again soon after – but Dad was not at the Christening and the boy was christened Antony. I must have been an awkward bugger because when the Vicar said “Anthony, how nice… after the Saint”, I said “No! No H, just Antony!”.
I’ve regretted that incident all my life. Why do we have unnecessary rows? I don’t know if it affects other people in the same way but, despite my outward appearance of indifference, I’m not like that at all. I can remember many instances of hurt feelings which have not really been meant. Why, oh why, do we do it? When those we have loved have gone, it is too late! I suppose that is our punishment, and it hurts and lingers forever……..
Well, so much for Antony. He was a good lad. His cot was by my side of the bed and I used to give him a bottle in the middle of the night. His ma used to feed him. She was a bonny lass, and had a pretty lonely time, with me away such a lot. She never complained. Claire, of course, was twenty-one in November 1937. Her Father used to come over to lunch sometimes on Sunday. She must have missed her Mother very much at this time.
In 1938 we had the “Munich Crisis”. The territorials were being called-up, gun sites were being prepared, and war seemed inevitable. All the office buildings were being sand-bagged, and Chamberlain waved a piece of paper and called out, “Peace in or time!”. I spent hours going round TA HQs to try to get in again. I could not re-join my old mob as I was no longer associated with Lloyds. Suddenly the TA began an expansion programme and the old “159” crowd formed a new Battery. A cadre of NCOs went to White City to start it up, and I was in again. That was April 1939 and the new Battery was about 280 strong. Well that Summer passed, or almost passed, until on 27 August in the evening, whilst I was playing tennis, the telegraph boy arrived with a telegram telling me to report for duty.
Here I am going to digress. I am going to extol the virtues of my Parents; their kindness to me and later to my Family. It was really out of this world! I suppose my Father was fairly strict. He had to be! We were a family of seven! We went short of nothing; it must have been a helluva job! He was a good man; did not drink (except for the odd glass of wine); clothed us well; fed us well and took us for 3 weeks holiday every year. Claire and I even went on holiday to Manorbier in Pembrokeshire in 1937 with all the Family (back to our roots – Ed), and before that Claire went with them to Salwayash near West Bay, Bridport, Dorset.