Loquitur’s Jottings Dad’s story

In 1936 I was twenty-three and Claire was twenty. We wanted to get married, so I went to R C Thorne the Director of our Marine Section at Heaths and asked for a raise. I was then getting £110 per Annum. He asked why, so I told him. He said it was stupid to get married! The answer was “No”, but if I stayed at Heath’s for 40 years I would get quite a good pension!

I’m afraid I was a little rude, because I said “Because (he) was unhappily married, it didn’t mean that I would be”. So at that stage I left his office and thought it advisable to offer my resignation before I got the sack! This I did, and for the period of my Notice I was transferred to the Enquiries Department at the front of the Office. It was an interesting job because anyone coming in had to be interviewed, state their business and wait to be seen by the person who dealt with the problem in question.

One day a gentleman in a top hat with button-hole and umbrella arrived. He did not come to the Counter but started through the door without stating his business. I naturally went to stop him and we became involved in a struggle – I said, “Where are you going?” He said he was going to see Lord de Vesci. I said “No you are not!” He said “Yes I am! I am taking him to lunch!” I said, “Wait here and I will tell him”. By this time we had struggled towards the Viscount’s door, past the Fire Dept., and he had partly opened the “Vicar’s” door (we called the Viscount “The Vicar”). I said, “You’ll get me the sack!”. He said, “If you get the sack, I’ll give you a job!”.

I let him go in and went back to the Counter. A few minutes later they came out and as he was passing I said, “Did you mean what you said about a job?”. He said, “Yes”. I said, “I am leaving here at the end of the month”. He said, “Come and see me at 11.00 tomorrow morning”.

By this time the whole of the fifth floor, about a hundred of them, were on their feet staring. Several of them came round saying, “Do you know who that was?”. I of course, hadn’t a clue! “That was Klamborowski, the Boss of the Provident Mutual Life Assurance Association”. I told them he had offered me a job. “You lucky Bugger!”, they said.

I was at Provident Mutual’s Offices at 11.00 next morning and had an interview with “Klambo” as we called him. He was a lovely man. He made the Eagle Star and British Dominion Assurance what it was, and of course, is to this day. And after The War, he built up Lambert Bros. into a thriving company. (These latter companies are still going strong today and have a web/internet presence. Sadly, Provident Mutual was dissolved in 2003, although “Aviva” includes it’s history as part of it’s heritage – Ed). Well, after my interview I was told to come back the next day for a medical examination – which I did. I passed, and on the first of the month (December), I started work in the Agency Department, at more than double my previous salary – in fact £250 per Annum .

The Provident Mutual was a pure Life Assurance association, no mucking about. All Pensions’ Schemes are covered by Assurance Companies whose Actuaries work out what premiums are required, by working out the “Mutuality tables”. We had Life and Endowment Assurance Schemes with every Transport company in Great Britain except three, i.e. “Thames Valley”, “Hants & Dorset” and “Wilts & Somerset”. We covered the “Post Office”, Railways, everything including several Banks. The Country was split up. London was Head Office. I was in “London South” and covered the area south of the Thames, west to Swindon, down to and including the Isle of Wight, and east to Kent, to Dover and south to the English Channel. I covered the area with a chap called Claude Frost and our boss who sat in the office, but came out occasionally. He was a chap named Johns. Then there was London north of the River and two other chaps covered that area. The rest of Britain was covered by offices at Bristol, Nottingham, Birmingham, Manchester, Leeds, Carlisle, Newcastle, Liverpool, Edinburgh, Glasgow & Aberdeen. They had their own areas with Branch Managers.

In our area we had sub-agents in Railways, Post Offices, Bus Depots; who explained the Schemes to the Staff and recruited members. They got a small commission. But the beauty of the Scheme was that all premiums were deducted from Pay through the Company Payrolls. My job was to go round my area and jog the sub-agents who got a bit slack sometimes, and to talk to groups and answer questions at meetings. We were salaried and did not get commission, but our expenses were liberal and we only stayed in the best hotels. I was away from home quite a bit, but that was my job and I became very interested and happy to travel and see new places. Payment of claims were made to the Branch Manager concerned who in turn paid the money to the Claimant, but one of the managers decided to make his own arrangements once he had received the money from HQ. This resulted, eventually, in claimants complaining to HQ that they had not been paid. So much to the Manager’s surprise he was taken to Court and got 6 months and the sack!

Well, that altered my life as well because it was decided to make an internal audit of Branches every three months, and I was given the job. More travel, fresh places to visit, all by road – a wonderful job! I travelled with the Agency (Assistant) Manager, J.M. Robertson, and not only did I visit Branch Offices but depots in towns all over England, Scotland and parts of Wales. It was not all work. For instance, to visit the Scottish Offices took ten days, and the work involved about 10 hours in all!

On one of our Scottish visits I tasted Haggis for the first time. The Edinburgh Manager, named Menzies (pronounced “Mingis”) was a member of the “Royal Burgess (Golf) Club”, whose President at that time was the Prince of Wales. He took us there to lunch and we had Haggis, mashed Turnips, or “Neaps” as the Scots call them, and Whisky (not “Whiskey” – that’s how the Irish spell it!). We also went to the “Royal and Ancient”(Golf Club) at St Andrews on the way up to Aberdeen. In Aberdeen I was introduced to the owner of the “S.M.T. Bus Co.”, a Mr H.T. Alexander. He introduced me to real Whisky – he carried a bottle in his car. It looked like water, but tasted like the very Fire of Hell – about 90% Proof!

One day coming from Aberdeen back to Edinburgh we took the inland road along the “Royal Deeside”, past Braemar over the bridge where you can watch the Salmon leaping; and Balmoral, with the Castle on the right, down the road to the “Devil’s Elbow” (The Cairnwell Pass is on the A93 between Glen Shee and Braemar and is the highest main road in the UK. A mile south of the summit is the Devil’s Elbow, a notorious double-hairpin bend climbing at a gradient of 33 percent (1 in 3). The modern road bypasses the hairpin bends, but the old road still exists – Ed). On the road coming towards us was a Ghillie (Scots term for an attendant on a Hunting or Fishing trip – Ed) leading a Mule with a huge Stag across its back. Walking in front were two chaps wearing kilts and carrying crooks. We stopped, stood on the seats with our heads out of the sunshine roof and said Good Afternoon. I said “Good God! It’s the King!” It was too! Walking back to the Castle with the Duke of Gloucester after a day’s shooting.

Life was certainly not humdrum in those days. There was always someone new and interesting to see. We would leave London and stop at “The Bell” Public House at Eton to talk to a chap named Clutterbuck, who was the Secretary of “The London Brick Company” at Biggleswade – we were always after new business.

It was in Edinburgh that I met Duncan Macrae. He was busy at St Andrew’s University training to be a Doctor. He played Rugby for Scotland. We met originally in the bar of Fairley’s Restuarant in downtown Edinburgh. He introduced me to a Captain Robertson who was M.O. (Medical Officer) at the Castle. We used to be able to get a drink any time of the night in The Waverley Hotel because Robertson knew the Night Waiter who was a retired WO (Warrant Officer). We met up quite often. I don’t remember what we talked about, but we enjoyed one another’s company. Robertson went off to Abbysinia with the Red Cross. The Italians had invaded the place. (this crisis increased the tension in Europe in the years prior to WW2 – if you are interested – see the link in my Blogroll -Ed)

The Provident Mutual being concerned with almost all the Transport Companies in the UK, it was customary to go to the Commercial Motor Shows at Earls Court. All of the Stands had tents where they served drinks. We met an old friend, a chap called Dawson, who owned the Bus company “Enterprise and Silver Dawn”, who later amalgamated with the “Lincolnshire Road Car Company” (in 1950-Ed).  A very good time was had by all, and Dawson ended up buying some DEC (I think!-Ed) Bus Chassis for his company. He had to cancel the order later of course, when he got back to Scunthorpe and realised what he had done. However, the thing rebounded!

JMR and I went up to Scunthorpe sometime later to talk to him about a Pension Scheme for the staff. Initially that area was very productive in those days. The Steelworks there turned out one seventh of the total World output of Steel, there was no unemployment, Bus Conductors were earning 10/2 (ten shillings and twopence) per 4 hour shift and they were doing 2 shifts a day. That was a lot of money in those days. Anyway, believe it or not, JMR and I left there two days later and we had not once talked about pensions! We had to stop in the middle of Lincoln, on the bridge over the River Witham, to be ill! (sounds like alcohol poisioning, or was it just the late night kebab!-Ed)!

One morning I was staying at the “Railway Hotel” in the Centre, by the Level Crossing (where else?-Ed) when a man jumped off the top of the Cathedral! A good hotel; I used to go there for their great Roast Lamb and Pickled Walnuts.

Birmingham was an awkward place to get about in. They had a one-way system. It was like a bloody maze! Our office was in the centre. The only time I stayed there the place was packed out. Some chap with an umbrella was there with a party, and when I got to the Hotel I found that they had made up a bed for me in a bath! The chap’s name was Neville Chamberlain (for you youngsters, he was a British Conservative Prime Minister 1937 -1940, best remembered these days for his appeasement foreign policy, signing the Munich Agreement with Hitler, and ultimately leading Britain into the Second World War. Plenty on him and events of his time on Wikipedia (follow my Blogroll link)-Ed)

I was interested in joining the TA again, but the Provident Mutual was not very enthusiastic. They were not members of Lloyds and so did not give the additional leave for Training Camp.

I can’t really pass over this period without mentioning some of the other Branch Offices I visited while with the Provident Mutual. Bristol I enjoyed. The “Life” Inspector there and I would travel round the area in his car and visit Exeter, Torquay, Okehampton, Plymouth…. the place I liked best was Barnstaple, where we stayed at The Imperial Hotel. Four days travelling round the West Country every Quarter was quite a holiday! Then there was Cardiff, Swansea, Newport…and no Severn Bridge to use, so it meant going through Gloucester (the first bridge was not opened until 1966 – Ed). There was a nice hotel there, I can’t remember the name. I’ve already said all I want to say about Birmingham. The Potteries was quite a good spot. I used to stay in Hanley and visited Stoke, Stafford & Newcastle-Under-Lyme.

Nottingham was good – stayed at the “County” or “Black Boy”(The Black Boy – an inn had stood on the site for many years when it was rebuilt in 1887-88. With its massive central tower with dark wooden gables and a Bavarian balcony with a dark wood balustrade, it was a major landmark in Nottingham city centre until its demolition in the late 1960s – Ed) The England and Australian Test teams used to stay at the Black Boy Hotel. There is an inn under Nottingham Castle called “The Trip to Jerusalem”, where King Richard used to assemble his men on the way to the Crusades. “Trip” is the old English word for “Halt”… so the “Halt on the way to Jerusalem”. You could actually buy a “yard of ale” at the inn, and there was a speaking tube from the Bar up to the Castle – seven hundred feet long! In the old days the inn was the cellar for the Castle, and orders for supplies were shouted down the tube. The cricketers used to use the inn a lot. (This is a fascinating pub, purported to be the oldest in England, dating back to 1189AD. See the website link on my Blogroll-Ed) I was in Nottingham the week of King George VI’s Coronation (12 May 1937. He was the one with the stammer, and subject of the 2011 film “The King’s Speech”-Ed) It was well lit up! Sherwood Forest was worth a visit and you could drive through it to the Great North Road (a coaching route used by mail coaches between London, York and Edinburgh, and now in part the A1-Ed).

Next came Manchester. I used to stay at the Midland Hotel, but ate at the Astoria Bar across the way. They had a huge Saloon grill – the steaks were magnificent (you chose your own), but the pride of the place was their Lancashire Hotpot – served in dishes with whole Lamb Chops and covered with pickled Red Cabbage. People used to go to the Cocktail Bar in the Midland to watch the Barman shake cocktails. He won the British Empire Cocktail Shaking Championship in Australia, and could shake and pour about six drinks without a spot of liquor under or over (?-Ed).

Then to the Queen’s Hotel in Leeds. When it opened in about 1937 it was the most modern hotel in Europe. It was part of the Railway Station Complex. Believe it or not it was only 8/6 Bed and Breakfast; 12/6 if you had dinner (that was really good value, as using the Retail Price Index to compare relative worth, that equates today to only about £20 (30 quid with dinner) . B&B (with dinner) at the Queen’s today would set you back £90 (£110). If you are interested in comparative worth – check out the “Measuring Worth” website – linked to my Blogroll – Ed). JMR and I, the Leeds Manager and the owner of a Clothing Factory used to go the Angel at Ilkley, which was an infamous pub; and then go for Fish and Chips at the supposedly most famous Fish and Chip restaurant in Britain. (Dad means, of course”Harry Ramsden’s”) (I think that the Angel Inn is actually at Hetton – near Ilkley Moor – can anyone tell me why it was “infamous”?-Ed)

Did you ever do any work Harries?

Now to Liverpool, with the Liver Building. The Mersey Tunnel had just been opened. JMR used to stay at the Adelphi, and I stayed at a Hotel called the Exchange. It sounds dull and probably was. I can remember one occasion, it was the time of the Victoria Cup – you know, for Coursing. The hotel was packed out with Irish Priests over for the Cup. I don’t know what we played; it was played with heaps of pennies like “Pitch and Toss”. We drank Guiness and sent out for loads of pigs trotters.

Chester, a lovely town! The city was all old buildings with dark beams – marvellous! The green sward down to the River Dee was close-cut and all along the river were coloured fairy lights. Can’t remember doing much work there. We must have just called in passing to visit a firm or an agent. The trip was the same time as the Coronation (George VI in 1937. Dad was also in Nottngham this week- Ed). It was a particularly festive visit.

Whenever we went to Newcastle we usually went there from Birmingham. We had no fixed route as our visits were supposed to be unexpected so that the accounts could not be “cooked” for our arrival; not that they ever were! Newcastle can be quite an interesting place to visit – two bridges over the River Tyne, a busy port, Eldon Square where our office was situated, Grainger Street and the Railway Station (Grainger Street or Grainger Town is the historic centre of Newcastle-Ed) – I sometimes stayed at the Station Hotel (the Royal Station Hotel -Ed); the posh area down to Whitley Bay; Moor Green – part of the town on the way to Blaydon Races. I remember arriving one afternoon at 3 p.m. The office was closed. They had all gone home because the Chief Clerk was playing Rugby Football. I remember one visit in 1936. It was dreadful! The streets of Gateshead were lined with men in dark suits and cloth caps. They were unemployed. A terrible year! It was the same in other towns south of Newcastle – a large mining area.

I used to visit Sunderland to see the Traction Company there. In fact I played football at Sunderland Football ground (Roker Park-Ed) for the Army, and with Raich Carter, the Sunderland Captain who was in the RAF (Horatio Stratton “Raich” Carter; admired by the great Stanley Matthews no less – check him out on Wikipedia-Ed). I’ll tell you about that later if I get to it.

Well now we are leaving Newcastle and going West instead of South. Going along Hadrian’s Wall to Carlisle. I was always intrigued by the signpost out of Newcastle which read “Heddon on the Wall”(Wikipedia again if interested-Ed). Robbie and I usually left in time to fit in a meal at the Inn at Chollerford Bridge on the River Tyne. The cooking was marvellous and the views out of this World! Arriving at Carlisle, the hotel we stayed at was the Grosvenor.

Its not easy to remember all the details  of those days. Remember, I joined the Provident Mutual on 1st December 1936 and put my uniform on, on the 27th August 1939. Not long really, and so much had happened: married, got a lovely Wife and a magnificent Son and heir; not done too badly in business life. Had it not been for the War I think I might have got on well at the P.M. I had, after only a few months, a pretty responsible job. I had overtaken other members of the Agency Department and in fact had been introduced to the “Sheriff of London Club” off Queen Victoria Street, by R B Glasborough the Agency Manager. I was being accepted by Management. What a boastful old – or young – egotist you are Josh Harries!

Well, after all the Branches to visit every Quarter, and not only the Branches, I got to know many people in many other towns and cities, who did, after-all, take a reasonably important part in the running of local services. And in fact I was involved quite considerably in the prosperity and success of a very important Life Assurance Society.

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.

On the 28th August 1939 I was twenty-six and a bit years of age. I don’t know why I have started writing. I had no intention of doing so , especially about the War years, but sitting and thinking about the 15th January 1991 – just 8 days away – and I’m seventy seven years old, seventy-eight in May, and another war is in the offing – it brought back memories of the part I played 50 years ago. A different war of course, because back then we were directly and without any alternative completely involved.

War then could have been avoided if we and our Allies had taken note of what Hitler was doing and intended doing in Europe. We let the man do what he wanted and allowed him to get away with it. We really had no choice. Who’s fault did you say? There is only one answer to that. From the late Twenties’ we had a load of useless politicians – have we ever had anything different? Well I suppose in some ways we were better off. We had The Empire which we drained of life to our advantage. We built transport systems all over the World: South America, India, Africa. The bank rate was 2 and 1/2 percent, there was no inflation and the Pound was worth 4.95 to 5.00 US Dollars. We were the envy of the World. We just went on producing and selling. We did not need real politicians, so we didn’t have any! There were people sitting in The House of Commons, but they didn’t do anything except close their eyes to what was going on around them. Had they been just a little alert, war could possibly have been avoided.

I was in the Territorials, a Gunner in fact, and from 1930/31 onward we were taught to recognise German aircraft. Why? So we could shoot ’em down when the next war came! What happened? We had a stupid sod of a Primeminister named Ramsay MacDonald who decided on disarmament – our 1932 Camp was at Blackdown near Aldershot with a Mountain Pack battery, listening to 10 pack mules farting as they moved over the slopes of the Surrey and Hampshire Common Land. No cash available for our AA Shells, only 3.7″ guns, not even a .303 bullet for a rifle. What a shower! A round of 3.7″ cost 3 pounds seven and six. Ramsay MacDonald was a Labourite, we had a Labour Goverment from 1928 – 31. He continued as Primeminister until 1936 but with a National Goverment. Then Baldwin took over ’til 1937 – still a National Goverment – and then the “umbrella man” Chamberlain took over until he was kicked out by Churchill. But the War was on by then. What a shambles, and though there were no party politics, they still “slept” in the House of Commons! What I am trying to say is that if we had had anyone with a grain of common sense, someone who could see what was happening in Germany, war could have been avoided. As it was, we were so weakened by the intransigence of our useless leaders, we were unable to help the countries we had promised to help after the 14/18 War, i.e. Czechoslovakia, etc. etc and finally Poland. There was one man about the time of 1937/8 who had considerable foresight. He was called Beaverbrook. He became Minister for Air and started building our airforce. Quite a number of my friends joined the equivalent of the TA and formed the Volunteer Reserve Squadrons of the RAF. Getting back to the crux of the matter, today we must not give in to Saddam Hussein one iota over Kuwait.

Now back on course. The 28th August 1939 – I and my mates slept on the concrete steps of the White City Stadium  at Shepherd’s Bush in London. We were a new lot remember, we were only formed in 1939 and in fact only a few of us had even fired a gun. We were originally due to go to our first practice training camp a week later at the beginning of September, but we headed for the real thing instead. I must add here that after the Disarmament programme of the Labourites, the programme was cancelled when the National Goverment was formed in 1932, so some of us had had the experience of live Gunnery.

So the morning of 29th August saw us in coaches and trucks leaving London and going no one knew where. My old Battery, 159, went to France almost immediately. We ended up on Dartford Heath with four 3.7″ machine guns, some ammunition, a prediction and height finder……. and nothing else! I think we had a couple of officers, Lt. Hawes and Lt. Gibson, and three very old Sergeants. Most of the chaps had never seen a gun, so I was immediately made a Limber Gunner. That suited me. Number 5 on the gun; the chap who pulled the firing lever and who became a wet nurse to his gun. He never left his gun, never went on parade, no duties or fatigues, he was excused all other duties. It was his gun and no one else could touch it!  (Thanks to www.limbergunners.ca, who confirm that the  Limber Gunner was detailed to care for the maintenance and preservation  of the gun. Although there is no exact date when this position was created, the rank of  Lance Bombardier, the rank that a Limber Gunner was appointed to, has survived from the old Grenadier Battalions of the British Army that lasted up to disbandment in 1855 – Ed). The Limber Gunner knew more about the gun than the Number 1. Fifty-six grease nipples in the roller racing, “Tela…… (Dad’s writing indistinct – Ed) T26 Grease Gun, graphite and C70 for the shining portion of the piece, 240 lbs of air pressure in the recuperator and don’t forget the buffer and the “tell tale”. The case firing mechanism was a good show off. I could take it to pieces and put it back together again blindfolded, all twenty-three pieces.

Get on with it!

There was no perimeter fencing around our site, there was a rough track entrance from the road, with a blue tent for a guard. We had to have a guard because the IRA was active at that time, putting bombs in letter boxes in London and so on. BUT the guard have to have a rifle and there were only half a dozen of us who had ever fired one, and unfortunately I was one of them! So the poor old Limber Gunner had a 3.7″ gun during the day and a .303 rifle at night. For good measure though, we nearly shot the Major! He visited one night and did not halt when told to do so. I can’t remember his name. He was a short arrogant little man. He did not last long. I think he was “Bowler hatted” soon after Christmas. I’ll tell you about that later.

Anyway, there we were on Dartford Heath and the first words from us all were “Where’s the cookhouse?”, “Where are the latrines?”, and “Where are the ablutions?”. Well we soon built some lats and ablution benches. A water tank was put up for the washing facilities. The lats were a wooden framework with a tin roof, and a long trench with a pole over it to sit on. I only used it at night when it was peaceful and one could sit and gaze at the Harvest Moon. But what about food? Well “blow me down!”, about 4 o’clock The Co-op arrived with the evening meal, and this continued for a few days. Huts were erected for sleeping, etc. and a cookhouse was built, and a fence appeared around the site. We sandbagged the gunpits and we were settling in fine.

Then came Sunday 3rd September. We were digging slip trenches for the gun detachments. “Lord Knows why” for if the enemy came we were supposed to fire on them, not take cover! Well our slip trench was being dug when the air-raid sirens went off in Dartford and so we took post at Action Stations behind the guns. There we were when Lt. Gibson came round to inspect us. He said “Put on your gas masks and gas capes!”Then he said “Where is your slip trench?”. We pointed it out to him and he said, “Get in it!”, so we got in it. There we were, all eleven of us, standing outside the gun pit in our slip trench which was all of ankle deep! What a shower! To our delight we heard a plane coming and we heard gunfire. It was over the Thames Estuary but turned out to be one of ours. Well Sunday came and went and so did The Co-op. We now had a cookhouse and rations were delivered, but no cooks! So who could cook? Josh Harries said he would have a go, so he and two or three others took on the job. I must say that we did rather well and everyone was satisfied, particularly Josh and a few friends who managed a nice rump steak for themselves every night! We soon had a Canteen going and some chaps arrived from the Army catering Corps to take over the cookhouse.

As a unit we were a very mixed bag, and were what was known as an “Officer Producing Unit”. We were in no way, at this stage of the War, an attacking force and had to concentrate on defence, and Gunner Officers were required in large numbers. Two OCTUs pittsburgpa online
(Officer Cadet Training Units) were formed, one at Shrivenham and one at Oswestry in Wales. No action except we were on the move and away. We left the guns and equipment on Dartford Heath – good job there was no action as only a few of us had ever fired a gun!

This was the middle of London, we were at a Junior Girls School and the rest of the Battery joined us. We were in Hackney – a bloody good place to be – no guns, no nothing! A perfect target for enemy bombers. So what did we do? We had a large photograph taken in the playground, had lectures in the classrooms and made use of the facilities as best we could. The lavatories were too small to sit on – they had been especially made for small girls, so there were no stalls for boys.

Now we are on the way again, going out of London. Blow me down! We’re at Whinchmore Hill; we’ve stopped at my old Football Club Ground at Hedge Lane (Borough of Hendon, N. London – Ed). They’ve put up some huts; we’ve got some guns; but we’ve overflowed onto the Saracens Rugby Club as well (the nomads of English Rugby, Saracens played at Fir Farm, Whinchmore Hill for a time – Ed). There are also some strange looking sheds on wheels in a corner, and on enquiry, someone said it was called “Cuckoo”! The huts are not ready for occupation yet so about thirty of us are sleeping in the pavilion. We are almost touching each other and the palliases are as hard as iron! I slept next to Jack Winder, an old friend, but he had an awful habit; he just stood up in the middle of the night, turned left or right, and “did it”! Woe betide the poor bloke who’s turn it is!

It was getting a bit chilly now, and we moved into the huts which had a large coke burner in the centre of the room; so we sat around it when not working. I of course was still a Limber Gunner and was learning about “Cuckoo” which was RADAR in its infancy. We used to get “Action Stations” at various times of the day or night. We were still an odd lot. Alfie Sassoon, nephew of Sir Phillip (3rd Baronet, see Link in Blogroll – Ed), was on one of the guns and whenever he went to “Action Stations” he carried a huge suitcase with him. It contained bottles of Whiskey, Gin, etc. which he refused to leave in the hut. Strange things happened in those days. One went on guard duty at night and by ten o’clock next morning when the Orderley Officer came round, half the guard would be missing; or one or two chaps on a fatigue would disappear. Where to? Well, London of course. Why? To get some officer’s uniforms. The Papers in those days, or rather The Times and The Telegraph used to publish a list of names of those Commissioned. So off they went to London for officer’s uniforms.

We had our TAB jails at this time, (can anyone tell me what Dad means here – Ed?) and the first lot of us were given 48 hour leave passes. I was one of the lucky ones  because it was soon discovered that it was not leave but 48 hours “excused duty”. A friend of mine had a Morgan 4 (the first one was built in 1936, and 77 years later Morgan are still making them – Ed) which he used to lend me to go home on leave to Epsom where Claire was now living with Ma amp; Pa, and of course little Antony.

The weather was getting bitterly cold and we were on the move again. We arrived somewhere near Gloucester, and I was now a Sergeant; three stripes.  Our 3.7″ mobile AA Guns pointed down the valley. Over the river behind us was a Searchlight Unit. We soon got rid of it! A few nights later “Jerry” came over and the searchight, all fifty million candle power, went into action.  So did “Jerry”! We could see the bloody bullets coming down the beam and most of them were aiming at us! We made the searchlight battery move the next day.

We were off again and on the road to North Wales, a place called Aberporth in Ceredigion on the West Coast, a lovely village (55 years later another Josh Harries went to Aberporth – to the firing range on MOD business – me! – Ed). The trouble was it was snowing and we were billeted in people’s houses or in the Village Hall. God it was cold(!) and we had to do our best with the rations which were issued to us, and buy food from the village shop. There was a mobile butcher, and Bill Bolton and I used to buy steak and cook it on a Primus Stove in the Village Hall. Bill was an old friend of mine for many years and he got the Belgian Croix de Guerre, mainly because he was posted to Brussels and his Wife’s Family were fairly high up in the Belgian Government; they were Belgians of course. We should have been fed at the gun site which was a couple of miles away, on the cliffs overlooking the sea. We couldn’t get there however because of the deep snow. I don’t think the Battery ever did get up to the gun site. We spent a miserable Christmas and then went back to Millhill Barracks outside London.

One incident sticks in my mind afer all these years. I was Orderly Sergeant and the Orderly Officer was 2nd.Lt. Flower. We called him “Daphne”. He was the son of the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police. He and I had to tramp through the snow to inspect the Guard on the gun site. The Guard, twelve men and a Sergeant, turned out with fixed bayonets. That was all right when he inspected them at “the slope” (Slope Arms! – Ed). Then he gave the order for inspection “Port Arms!”. Just imagine! They came to the “Port” with bayonets still fixed. Well! There they were, left foot forward, rifles held across the waist pointing forward with a bayonet sticking out in front. The officer is supposed to take the barrel in his right hand and look down it to see if it was clean, and then examine the breech. Some hopes! It would probably have ended with a bayonet up one’s nostril! Daphne said to me; “What shall I do now?” I said; “Better dismiss the Guard soon and we can go back to our billets”. So that’s what he did, thank goodness!

So were now in Millhill Barracks, the home of the Middlesex Regiment, and on parade the next morning only eight men turned up. I was one of them. All of the rest of the Battery were sick, the consequence of our Christmas in Wales! The Medical Officer decided there was only one way to deal with the situation, so everyone was sent home on seven days sick leave. So we all had our throats swabbed and away we went.

The major got a “Bowler Hat” (left the Army – Ed) and we never saw him again; or at least I don’t think so. It was only January 1941 at this time, and although I was only a Sergeant, I did not see an officer above the rank of Lieutenant until October of that year when I went to OCTU (Officer Cadet Training School) at Shrivenham. of course I may have seen one, but if I did they made no impression on me!

So, back to Millhill Barracks after Leave and then to Blackdown and into barracks. We were to be issued with kit for a hot climate, and it was all very secret, and we were allowed a weekend pass to see our families if we could get away in the time given. Claire, who only lived at Epsom, came down and we stayed at a bed and breakfast house at Frimley Green, and of course spent most of the time in The White hart in Frimley – a lovely old pub.

Our weekend over I discovered that our guns and stores had gone to Aberdeen and were being loaded onto a ship – for onward to where? Where do you think? Of all places; Finland! I don’t know who the Fins were fighting at that time, either the Germans or the Russians; the Germans more likely. We had no casualties except a Sergeant who was killed when the leg of one of our 3.7” guns fell on him on the quay at Aberdeen. We finally though stayed put at Blackdown because either the Germans or Russians had already beaten the Fins!

We did have British troops in Finland because a later friend of mine – a Captain A J H Hopkins was a Movements Officer there and was lucky to get away, and I later met him in Palestine. In civilian life he was a Cargo Loading Manager at George V Dock in London.

So there we sat! It was all so bloody “hush hush” we knew nothing, but our guns and equipment had disappeared, and I found out later it had gone to France. Our advance party had gone and we were to follow. We were going to Abbeville, so away we went, full of hope, and ended up in Finsbury Park, North London! What a shambles! The Troops had given up in France and were now in the middle of Dunkirk (and the evacuation). I became part of a small party to go somewhere; I’m not certain where – Portsmouth or Southampton – to help get the chaps off the boats and on to trains to wherever. Then back to Finsbury Park. Our guns, etc. duly arrived back from France so at least we had something to do. I was a full Sergeant by this time and I had a gun and detachment of twelve men, a driver, a Matador (Towing vehicle – Ed) and a load of ammunition, a motorcycle and a couple of Bedford 3 ton trucks.

I can’t remember how long we stayed at Finsbury Park. One day I was called to a tent or marquee with Geoff Healy the Sergeant in charge of No. 2 Gun. Geoff was a musician; he ran a dance band in civilian life and played at a club in London’s West End. So we were called to what was known as an “Orders Group”. We were both given a map reference and told to take our guns and equipment and make our way there as soon as possible. There had evidently been air raids in the area and there was only one old 3” Anti Aircraft Gun mounted on a hill near where we were going. Our map showed us a bit of open ground between Swansea and Neath on the South Wales Coast marked Jersey Marine Golf Course. It was a hell of a way! (now Swansea Bay Golf Club based in the village of Jersey Marine – Ed). We said “What about food?”, and were told to fend for ourselves and scrounge what we could from civilians along the route. We had a couple of bell tents and some sort of equipment for cooking, but we were careful to stop on the way where it looked most likely we could scrounge something to eat. Most of the public were very kind and helpful and I think in one or two places we were given live chickens. Anyway we did not starve. There was no Severn Bridge in those days and so we had to go north a bit and through Gloucester.

So here we are in Wales. It’s usually a hell of a job to put down a 3.7” mobile Gun and get it level, but I chose a nice Green (don’t know what hole it was!) and the gun was level in no time. What next? Get something cooking. Sometime later Geoff Healy arrived and put his gun down on the next Green about 30 yards away. There we were. We heard from the locals that there had been firing at the port of Swansea, so we presumed that was why we were there. There had also been bombing raids which we were to find out about later ourselves. However, what were we to do? Just fire at anything that came over I suppose. Just make a noise to encourage the poor old locals. We were quite happy.

Lo and behold, the next day, who should arrive but Taffy Evans with a Vickers Predictor and a UB2 Height Finder (During World War 1 instruments were introduced to provide laying data; typically Height and Range Finders (HRF) were optical rangefinders of the coincident type, for example the Barr & Stroud 2 metre UB2, that also measured the elevation angle and hence produced height. Deflection was found by entering the range into tachymetric devices that tracked the target in range and elevation to determine the rate of change and hence the deflection –Ed) and a few vehicles and men. Taffy Evans was a Warrant Officer 3^rd Class – a Troop Sergeant Major, so we were a Troop! Two guns and a Command Post; no officer just a useless Sergeant Major BUT a couple of first class Sergeants!

Taffy selected his Command Post and had his tent put up; tested the prevailing wind to erect a corrugated iron Cookhouse on one side and on the other side, some Latrines. Next, dig some slip trenches behind the guns and Command Post and then get the guns calibrated. Our “aiming point” was selected somewhere near The Mumbles, and we were ready for action. Why the hell we always had to dig slip trenches I shall never know! We were there to fire our guns against the enemy aircraft, not to hide in the bloody slip trenches!

I’m writing a few words today because it’s the 28^th March 1991 and Dad was taken prisoner on that day in 1918 – the day of the “Great German Onslaught”. He wrote quite an interesting little book about his captivity by The Bosche. he called it “Scavenging For The Bosche”, because he did not get further than behind the German Lines. I shall not elaborate because anyone sufficiently interested can read all about it – Josh has a copy (that’s me – Ed).

My story is on Jersey Marine Golf Course, and we are two guns and a very ancient Command Post with a Troop Sergeant Major in charge.

It is just after Midnight and the Air Raid Siren has gone and the searchlight, about two miles from the sea on top of a hill, has lit up the sky. There is a Heinkel IIIK (a German aircraft designed by Siegfried and Walter Günter in the early 1930s in violation of the Treaty of Versailles. Often described as a “wolf in sheep’s clothing”, it masqueraded as a transport aircraft, though its actual purpose was to provide the Luftwaffe with a fast medium bomber–Ed) circling overhead, and it is dropping bombs on us – the screaming sort – very frightening – but they do no harm. They fall onto the sandy golf course and explode with very little noise.  The searchlight has picked it up; a marvellous target. There is a loud voice from the Command Post; “TAKE COVER!”. There is a loud voice from me; “NUMBER 1 GUN STAND FAST!” I am on my knees behind the gun shouting “TRAVERSE RIGHT. RIGHT. ELEVATE TO 80 DEGREES. TRAVERSE. TRAVERSE. HALT. LOAD FUSE 7. TRAVERSE. HALT. FIRE!” Up goes the 56 pounder. A hit! We have a hit and he comes down in the sea! We heard the next morning that the crew of five were picked out of the sea, taken to hospital and given hot cups of tea, etc. I and my gun detachment did not even get a thank you!

We did not stay long at Jersey Marine. We were on the move and ended up in a field a short way to the east of Newport in Monmouthshire. We were a larger Troop now: four guns and an officer in charge named Lt. Dunlop. Another Troop were in a field about a mile away. We had huts to sleep in and a Sergeant’s Mess; a proper Cookhouse and a Cook! Evans was still with me, but we were a happy crowd.

We were bombed one night but the bombs dropped either side of the gun site and made a few holes. Had some fun one afternoon. We were following a Heinkel at Range Control. We could not engage – it was almost out of range – but away in the distance coming towards us in formation were three Junkers, 87s (also known as Stukas-Ed) I think they were. We laid on them using the dials controlled from the Predictor and loaded Fuse 11 and got the order to fire from the Command Post. They were sitting ducks. We shot them all down. Four shells exploded in the middle of them and they all disintegrated. Job done! We saw a fair amount of action as there was not a lot of air defence  in this part of the World. Gunners were few and far between despite the “Territorial’s” and the Officer producing units. The War was not yet a year old….and anyway it was going to end last Christmas according to the pundits!

We were into early September 1940 and one afternoon the Telephonist in the Command Post kept getting phone calls saying “CROMWELL”. He didn’t know what it was all about so he called Lt Dunlop, our only officer, who went to the Command Post  and phoned Ops. He was asked if he had heard of CROMWELL. He said yes; that he was the first silly bugger to get a haircut! However, it turned out that CROMWELL was the code word for the German Invasion of Britain and on that day the Church Bells rang in many places and we went to permanent Action Stations.

As we all know the invasion did not come off. The Rhine Barges that the enemy was coming over on were sunk by the RAF and Hitler and Goering danced in vain!

At one time it was suggested that I could have a job with the “Anglo South American Bank”, where an Uncle on my Mother’s side was Manager. It would have meant going to work in Santiago in Chile. However, luckily for me the Bank went bust and Uncle came home!

It was not easy to get employment in 1930/31, and the only way with The City was through influence, and my interview with Mr Simms, Manager of the “Union Insurance Society of Canton” in Cornhill, came about because Grandpa Harries was at one time the London Manager, and taught Mr Simms about the Business.  The interview did not produce a job but another meeting, with a Mr H. O. Bruell, another old friend of Grandpa’s. Mr Bruell was the Contract Director at “C.E. Heath & Co Ltd.”, the (then) leading Insurance Brokers and Underwriters, in not only The City but the World! Mr Bruell took Dad and me to lunch in the Captain’s Room at”Lloyds” (of London, Underwriters). Afterwards I was taken to meet Lord de Vesci, Office Manager at Heath & Co, and I was put on the Waiting List for a job.

Nine months later I was working in The City in the Postal Department at Heath’s in Cornhill. It was now March 1931. I was two months off my Eighteenth Birthday. During the waiting period I, of course, remained at school and rather enjoyed my Football and Cricket, and got my First XI Colours in both. School work did not worry me too much because I knew I had a job lined up.

The Postal department was in the Basement. My work was taking mail round the various departments, collecting mail for dispatch from “Out” trays, addressing envelopes, putting the right amount of stamps on – remember mail was being dispatched Worldwide – and each morning, delivering “By Hands” round The City. Our hours were from 8.30am ’till 8.00pm. We did not go home until all the mail was dispatched; the final mail being taken to St. Martins Le Grand – the main City Post Office by St. Paul’s Cathedral to be posted as “Late Fees” by 8.00pm. This was all for £60 a year! Lord de Vesci used to come round on the last Thursday of the month and hand out a cheque for £5.00, which in the Lunch Hour we changed for Cash at Lloyd’s Bank in Leadenhall Street. We were all very well dressed. I wore a pin-stripe suit and vest, a bowler hat and carried an umbrella; sometimes I wore spats.

We were a rather select lot in the Postal Department. It consisted of a permanent staff of four, who really knew their stuff. The Manager kept the accounts. The other three “pigeon-holed” mail until they knew they had the lot for the day, and kept the large, small and medium envelopes already addressed, and passed them to us for weighing etc. etc. The rest of us “new boys” did the post and waited patiently for “Promotion Upstairs”. In my day there were chaps from Harrow, Charterhouse, Sedbury, Rugby and Owen’s (that’s me). A particular friend of mine was John Heseltine. His Father was a Cartoonist for “The Daily Sketch”, I think.  He came to work in a Chauffeur Driven White Rolls Royce. He and I used to sneak off sometimes to “Pimms” opposite “The Royal Exchange” for a real cup of tea and a chocolate biscuit. Another one of the “stamp lickers” was John Charles Pole Gell (Yep! Spelling is spot on this time Dad!). I met John again in “London District”. He was a Colonel in one of the Guards Regiments and I was “RTO London District”, but that was 22 years later!

Soon after joining “Heath & Co” the Firm moved to “Bankside House” in Leadenhall Street. It was a new building; six floors, lifts that worked, and had the “latest thing” in The City; a mezzanine floor. Cuthbert Heath bought the whole building and let it out except for the Fifth and Sixth which were occupied by the “Heath & Co” workforce; and the Second Floor, which was turned into a Table Tennis Club. Marvellous! Five Tables, and it became part of the “Erycinus Sports Club”, incidentally the Greek word for Heath (the Erycinus Sports Club was later renamed C E Heath, and was one of the clubs at one time involved in the Leigh & Westcliffe Lawn Tennis Association – formed to provide a competitive league in South East Essex – amazing what a “google” name check can turn up!). We played matches against the City Banks at the “Lombard Lounge Club” in Lombard Street, commercial houses like “Harrods”, “Selfridges”. I played several times against Victor Barna, the Czechoslovak World Table Tennis Champion (actually Dad, he was Hungarian born (1911-1972) but later played for Britain. He won 22 World Titles inc. 5 Singles and one of the World’s greatest Table Tennis Players ever! You don’t mention who won those matches Dad!)   

After about 6 months I was promoted. My move was to the Renewals Department. In all I stayed at “Heath & Co”until 30 November 1936 and worked in “All Risks”, “Fire”, “Marine”, “Enquiries”, but the job I liked best was “Underwriting Accounts” This job was on the Sixth Floor of the “Lloyds Building” and the work covered our Underwriting Syndicate, i.e. “Heath & Co 620”, “Heath & Others 624”, “Montague Evans 625” and “H J Parsons 629” (can somebody explain to me what that means?). My job entailed visiting Insurance Brokers, and agreeing their accounts with our syndicates. I had sixty Insurance Brokerage firms to look after – not bad for a Youngster! There were four of us who worked outside. Sometimes two of us would help each other if the account was a large one like “Price Forbes”, “Matthew Leslie and Goodwin”, “Wrightson”, etc. We used to meet up with others in the same game, so we had “coffee parties” and played dominoes some mornings. We would take our ledgers back to the office on the Sixth Flor of “Lloyds” and the office staff sent out the Quarterly Accounts. Believe it or not, Underwriting Accounts are probably the most complicated, with their “short debits” and “under credits”, and the business of changing Sterling into Foreign Currencies and vice versa. Claire (Mum) knows something about these accounts, as she worked in the Accounts Department of “Price Forbes” (“Google” “Underwriting Accounts” if you want to know more). Our Manager was Charlie Michaels who had an office at the end of the room. He was so short, he could not be seen when he sat down! Sometimes we could see the round bald patch on the top of his head. I remember another short girl in the Enquiry Office in Birchen Lane. The chaps there used to stand her on her desk and bounce her up and down until her knickers fell down round her ankles! Got to have a laugh sometimes (very PC not, Dad!)………

Insurance work is really interesting, especially in a leading Broker’s like “Cuthbert Heath” (there is plenty on “the Web” about CE heath, etc – some good, some bad (misconduct in 1998), and an interesting (short) article about the man himself on Lloyds Website. Follow my Blogroll Link if you are interested) 

The Erycinus Sport’s Club had other activities – our Sports Ground was at Raynes Park near Wimbledon. It was after a football match against “Commercial Union” at Grove Park that I met my future Wife on London Bridge Station. She had been playing hockey for her firm, “Price Forbes Insurance Brokers”, whose offices were near The Monument. It was 1934. She was 18 and very, very good looking! She was with a friend and I was with Stan Brown. We followed them down The Tube at London Bridge and flirted with them all the way to Clapham Common where one of them got off, followed by Stan; and I stayed on and followed the other one to Trinity Road. I chatted her up but she was in a hurry, she had a date that night. So we agreed to meet again and we’ve been together ever since.

Our Swimming Club was in full swing. We used the Paddington Baths on one night a week. I won my first prize there – a cut glass bowl, which Angela still has – one hundred yards breast-stroke. The Club played Polo, and Temme – who was the first chap to swim “The Channel” both ways – played for “Commercial Union”. Incidentally they put up £300 Sponsor Money for the swim. (Edward Harry Temme: He swam from France to England on 5 August 1927 (14h 29m) and from England to France on 18 August 1934 (15h 34m – Ed) However he was a very dirty polo player! Water-polo is notoriously dirty; so many fouls are made underwater and are not normally seen.

We had some fun in those early days. We used to go to quite a lot of parties – five of us usually: Stan Brown, Robert Yeldham Unwyn (I think! – Ed), me and two others. Parties at “Moorfields Eye Hospital” and “North Middlesex Hospital”. Donald Soper used to organise parties for young people. He was a famous Methodist Preacher – became a Lord (Check out “Baron Soper” on Wikipedia if you are interested – Ed) . Robert always carried a camera; he made money out of it. One day he took a picture of a man who jumped from our building and landed on a bus. He rushed it up to Fleet Street and got £10 for it… I could go on for ever!

In my first years at work Dad still locked up at 10 o’clock. We were supposed to be home by then, but I found it a bit irksome at times. Anyway I had a Girlfriend and thought I should have a bit of latitude. I don’t know whether Dad knew I was still out or not. I had my own Bedroom, so Mother used to make sure the Lavatory Window was open, so I could climb up a drainpipe and so to bed! This was while we still lived at Southgate. When we moved to Epsom I was allowed a key – a good job(!) because with all the parties going on we were a gang of “late birds”! There were times when I had to wait until about seven o’clock in the morning, and creep in when Dad was shaving! He must have known but he never said anything.

In 1932 the Family moved to Epsom. I had a £10 raise in January and at Christmas 1932 we all got a £10 bonus, so my salary was £70 per year. I was “bloody hard up” despite the fact that I only gave Mother 10/- (Shillings) a month which she usually gave me back a few days after getting it! Dad paid my fares and bought most of my clothes.

Life was pretty good though. I was playing football for “Broomfield” in the “Nemean League”. We played clubs similar to those in the Southern Amateur League, like Hastings, Ipswich, Moor Green, Wood Green, etc., and in Hospital Charity Cup matches  I usually got a 10/- note in my shoe after the match (there are a couple of Broomfield FCs around today – with a web presence – but the one Dad played for can be found by clicking on the “BroomfieldFC1911” link on my Blogroll – Ed). Cricket was a must and I played for “Southgate Adelaide”. We were a First Class Amateur Club, and I met and played with people like Tom Pearce who captained Essex; Teddy Carris who played for Finchley and Middlesex; Benka, for Neasden and many others….don’t keep “name dropping” Harries! (Southgate Adelaide are still going strong and “on the WWW”  – follow the Blogroll link. Now on Facebook, they have played on the Walker Ground in North London ever since they were founded in 1870 – Ed)

Holidays were good family affairs and we were now going to “Pineapple Farm” at Manorbier near Tenby in Wales. Pembrokeshire. The “Little England Beyond Wales” was a lovely place. Of course The Harries Family have many connections with that part of the World.

Meanwhile I had joined “The Territorials”. A friend of mine who lived in our road at Southgate was a member already. He worked in a Brokers in “B….ter (Help!-Ed) Square, and we travelled up together, Bowler Hats, Umbrellas and all. It was May 1931 and I was “Gunner Harries” in “159 (Lloyds) AA Battery (TA) 53 Brigade”. 98 Officers and Men, all Insurance Chaps. There were 3 Batterys in the Brigade, a Bank’s Battery (157), Lloyds (159) Battery, and a Commercial Battery (158) (from “the web”,  these Batterys made up the 53rd (City of London) Anti-Aircraft Regiment, R.A. (T.A.) – London District HQ, 157th, 159th (Lloyd’s), 158th (City of London) Btys: War Office Dept, White City Road W 12 – Ed). Uncle Leonard, my Father’s young Brother, who worked for the Eastern Telegraph Company in Moorgate, in the same office as Dad, was in the 158 Bty. I saw him one day riding on the seat of a 3 inch AA Gun (the only AA Gun we had in those days). He was coming down Cornhill in The Lord Mayor of London’s Show. I was also in it later on. There was great competition to get into Lloyds Battery, so few were needed. There were some famous names there too, including one Bill Fussell, a great friend of mine who married Claire and I at Epsom Registry Office in August 1937. He was famous for that very reason! Our Best man, John Robertson (again, I think!-Ed) was also a Gunner. He later became Medical Officer of Heath’s for Surrey. Training was every Monday night at Lytton Grove, Putney. We studied German aircraft, knowing they were to be our enemy.

At one time I got fed up with office work, I don’t know which department I was in, but I went up to “Scotland Yard” to try for the Metropolitan Police. No hope! They were interviewing 200 a day from all over the World! When I stood in front of about six Doctors, naked, on two pieces of paper, with legs apart, they said “Go back for the other half!” I was 9 stone 10lbs in those days (under 62kgs). Then after my first Camp, I told Dad I wanted to join the Army. He took me for a walk one Sunday morning and talked me out of it. he said “Don’t do it Josh. They can do anything they like to you in the Army, except put you in the ‘Family Way’ “. So I stayed at “Heath’s”.

TA Camp was two weeks a year and because we were “Lloyds” it did not count against our annual entitlement. 1931 at Watchet – Doniford Range; 1932 at Blackdown, one week only. Ramsay MacDonald and the Labour Party were in; Disarmament was the Policy, and there was no money for training; no ammunition. So we trained with a Mountain Pack Battery. Have you ever heard of a mule TRAF?! (can someone please let me know what this acronym stands for? Military/Artillery/?- Ed) (There is an interesting article by Christopher Trevelyan on the ‘Web’ – at least I think so(!) – on the Indian Army Mountain Artillery, which gives a good idea of what Dad got up to on that Training Camp – Blackdown (Surrey) though is not nearly so exotic as the North West Frontier, in the time of the British Raj. Follow my Blogroll link-Ed).  I was at Blackdown, near Frimley in Surrey, again in 1940. Claire came down and we stayed at The White Hart, near Frimley for a weekend. I was on Embarkation Leave for Finland and had reached the rank of full Sergeant. 

However, 1933 and back to Watchet; lovely Camp there! The Regular Battery, “5 AA Bty” from Portsmouth, was acting as basic “work boys”. They tried to kill their Sgt. Major by bundling bales of hay round his bell tent and setting fire to them! Their punishment was to be sent to Aden. Aden was the Gunner’s Punishment Station in those days. (Aden was formerly part of British India and then a British Colony and then a South Arabian Federated State, and in 1967 became the People’s Republic of South Yemen-Ed). That year we stood in the rain for hours waiting to be inspected by the “boss Gunner”, Brigadier General Sir Archibald Montgomery-Massingberd. What a memory! (loads about ‘Archie’ on the ‘Web’-Ed)

I was Number 5 on the Gun that year. I received the Round from number 6 who catered it. I rammed it home in the Semi-Automatic Breech, which came up and pushed my hand in the air, which I then brought down on the Firing Handle on the left-hand-side of the Breech to fire the Round. What happened? A misfire! Wait one minute; fire again. No good! So Number 6 opens the Breech by hand. I receive the Round which slides out, not separated thank goodness! Examine the Primer. Oh Dear! It’s been struck! The Drill is to “double”  it away (military speak for bl**dy quickly!-Ed) to a place of safety, which is supposed to be at least twenty yards in front of the Gun. What did I do with it? I “doubled away” with it, and placed it at the feet of Col. Barratt (the Chairman of Lloyds Bank) who was the Brigade Commander, and who was standing safely in the sandbagged Command Post, with the Mayor and the crews of the Vickers Predictor and the UB2 (Universal Base 2 Metres) (one of the first fully automated anti-aircraft fire-control systems, the predictor was an electromechanical analog computer. It could aim a gun at an aircraft based on simple inputs like the observed speed and the angle to the target and was intended to be used against high-altitude bombers-Wikipedia-Ed)

There was Hell to Pay! I had retreated back to my Gun by now. I had to “double back” to the Command Post  and pick up the Shell and “double away” with it to a place of safety in front of the Gun!

We had some fun though. We had competitions in the Battery to see how many rounds we could fire in one crossing of the target; the target being a “sleeve” towed by an aircraft. The old 3″ AA Gun was used for all sorts of things: Air Defence on ships; mounted on Vehicles; or on the Ground. It was made for the ’14/’18 War in Belgium (made in, but of course used in as well!-Ed). The Shell was fixed ammunition, and the Projectile had a powder fuse and weighed 28lbs (approx 13 kg-Ed) with a ceiling of 20-25 feet. There was also a Shrapnel Round with a 2 to 4 second fuse that exploded forward at about 2000-4000 feet (approx 600-1200 metres-Ed). The normal Shell had up to a 30 second fuse. We had bearings which we should not fire outside, but one day we did not hear the “cease fire” and went on firing. The Mayor of Watchet complained that Shell pieces had fallen on his harbour!

By the way, I had my first beer at Watchet. It was the custom of the Section Commander, Lt Gibson, to take his Section to the NAAFI Canteen for a drink, and I had my first Light Ale in September 1931. It was a good Canteen and one could go there in the evening to eat and drink and play “Housey Housey” (Bingo) . Watchet was a good spot and most of the time we drank Stickleton Stout (Somerset Cider) (I can’t find this name on the ‘Web’ – can anyone throw some light?-Ed) in the local Pub. It was potent stuff! The locals drank it and it was thick and opaque!

Watchet again in 1934. Same sort of routine; same old guns; same old crowd. Mother and Dad drove down in the 97hp Hudson Essex (a US car makers formed originally in 1909) car and stayed at the Somerset Arms Hotel. Not a bad drive for Dad – all the way from Epsom where we now lived.

In 1936 King George V died, and the five best chaps at Rifle Drill were selected for lining the route. I was one of those selected and we practiced under a Warrant Officer from the Welsh Guards for several nights. The big day dawned and I was standing in the gutter in Sussex Gardens. The cortege passed on the way to Paddington Station – the Coffin was going to Windsor for burial. It rained all day and we were soaked. Still it was an event to be proud to be chosen for!

In 1935 and 1936, we went to Weybourne near Sheringham in Norfolk, and met, for the first time, a good AA Gun; the 3.7″ Mobile Gun. It was a marvellous gun; equivalent to the German’s 88 millimetre. The projectiles weighed 56 lbs (over 25kgs), and one could fire an airburst to explode at 19,400 yards at 50ft (nearly 19km at 15metres) – jolly good for HE (High Explosive) at concentrations of enemy troops! It was also used as an Anti Tank weapon, and also built for static sites and fixed in Concrete (see Blogroll link if you are interested in the facts and figures).

Dad let me take the car to Camp in 1935 but it broke down at Potter Heigham in Norfolk, so I had to leave it at “Sidney Grape’s Garage” for a welding job, which cost £5; and I went to Camp in Bill Fussell’s car. He took me back a week later to collect the old Hudson Essex (in checking out Sid Grape’s Garage, I have discovered that he was a leading and interesting Norfolk literary figure – the Norfolk Humorist. Take a few minutes out to check him out by following my Blogroll link – where you will also find a photo of the “famous” garage!-Ed)

I only did six years with Lloyds Battery. I would have done more but Claire and I decided that we would like to get married, so I resigned from the TA to spend more time with her.

That Summer we went to Sidmouth for our Summer Holiday, but first of all we had to be settled into new schools. Ray, Stan and I went to Percy Haller’s. He ran a Private School called “Brownlow College”. It was two large houses knocked into one at Brownlow Road, Bowes Park. Haller and his Wife, another Amy, were strict Methodists – My God they were! I can hear the Hymns we had to sing to this day! He was a bastard with his Cane! It had a brass ferrule on the hitting end. He used to lash out blindly and foam at the sides of his mouth, and spit when he lost his temper for no reason at all! He once lashed out and hit me on the back of the hand by mistake. A two inch lump came up immediately, so I shouted at him, walked out and went home! On that occasion perhaps he had reason to lose his temper. The other end of the cane was a bit frayed and we were able to pierce it with a big pin; so of course when he grabbed it………, we’ll leave what happened to your imagination!

I suppose I learned something, and indeed I was rapidly recovering from my previous time as a Boarder and Day Boy at Chelmsford. I was discovering that I could do what other boys did. I could run, climb trees, play games; and I developed rapidly to the state of becoming almost normal. It’s debatable if I ever entirely reached normality. So be it!

Kath went to a small private school in part of the house by the lake in Broomfield Park, Palmers Green. Poor old Peg was ill with Glandular Fever so they said, and had to be laid out in a Day Care perambulator. It was terrible! Doctors, later on, said she was alright and did not need to be stretched out so, but she suffered for quite a long time. She eventually went to the same school as Kath. We had a piano and I carried on with my music lessons. I believe Ray had them too.

By the time I was twelve, in the May of 1925 I started falling in love. There was Barbara Cove Smith who’s Brother was about to be a Doctor, and who was quite a fine Rugger Player. There was Ivy Went (I think that’s the surname) whom I chased hard and fast without much luck. There was Ivy Grubb who chased me! She once took me into Arnos Grove and we lay in the long grass, and she frightened me to death! There was Norah Hills (again I think that’s the surname) but only at a distance. I digress. We won’t go any further at this stage. I liked Betty Kitto who lived in our road at No. 7 but she was older then and played the Oboe in the BBC Symphony Orchestra at Alexandra Palace. Her mother had Cancer and had to have electric treatment on her nose. They were nice people. Opposite us lived the Wilkinson’s. “Tubby” was a friend of the Boys and his Father was an Artist. Dad bought some of his paintings of wildlife. I wonder what happened to them? He died very early on. Just above them on the same side were the Spattell’s. There were two boys – they were both killed in the War (WWII) in the RAF. Their Father was Captain on the Queen Mary. On one occasion he took the Queen Mary into harbour without a pilot because there was a strike on at the time. Opposite them were the Leeches, Les and Mary. They were Cousins of Mother’s. Their two Sons, Raymond and Bob went to Brighton College. (You can find Leeches on Louise’s Family Tree site but not all i.e Mary but not Raymond . I guess there is work to be done for someone!) Harry Wren lived with his Mum and Dad at the top of the Road. They had a large Humber Saloon. Harry went to Fox Lane Grammar School. His Father made pianos in their factory near Stoke Newington.

Grandma and Grandpa Newman lived at 127 Fox lane, about 20 minutes walk from us. Grandpa was retired and they used to walk up to us for tea every day. We often went there for tea on Sundays. I used to enjoy tea at Grandma’s. We always had something tasty; Sandwiches with Water Cress in them, Radishes. They were interesting, especially if Uncle Ron was there – he chewed every mouthful thirty times – Radishes made quite a good munch! We often had Shrimps which I still enjoy to this day. I don’t mean the frozen rubbish you get now, but the fresh ones which smelled of the Sea. A couple of Grandma’s Sisters lived at the bottom of Fox lane at No. 93. Uncles Fred and ? (Richard Edward Smith – Dad couldn’t remember – thanks to Louise’s Website!) and Aunts Edith and Emily. I had some other friends living in Mayfield Avenue; Eric Snuggs and Ralph Smith. We remained friends for as long as we stayed at Southgate.

That Summer we went to Sidmouth for our holiday and Grandma and Grandpa Newman came too. We went from Waterloo. Dad used to reserve a compartment on the train and the Guard would put up a long table down the middle of the compartment so we could play games.  Grandpa Newman showed us all how the new Safety Locks worked on the Carriage Doors. He said it only opened to the first catch and needed another movement of the hand to completely open it. It opened OK. It flew open and nearly took him with it! We were travelling at quite a speed and we all had to hang on to his Jacket to stop him falling out! Of course the door flew back the opposite way to which we were travelling, so it was quite a job to get hold of the Window Strap and pull the door shut! Grandpa’s face was red for the rest of the journey.

We had relatives who lived at Sidmouth, in a house with a big Fig Tree in the Garden. We used to go there for tea. We went to Sidmouth several times. Chudleighs (a sweet, Scone like bun from near the town of Chudleigh in Devon – also known as “Cut Rounds” or “Splits“) and Cream, boat trips to Ladram Bay, walks, sand, bathing, three weeks! I don’t know how Dad afforded it – all of us to clothe, feed, School Fees, and of course when Ray and I and Stan went off to proper school – bus and train fares. I’m off target again! Us Boys are still at Haller’s, which is not the object of the exercise.

In September 1925 I went to Owen’s School in Islington. I had to go up to the School to take an entrance exam. I was not very brilliant so I don’t know to this day how I passed. My father took me up of course and when we got home he wanted me to remember what I had had to do. I could not remember a thing, so I made something up. I told him that one of the sums was a “square root”. I said the answer was 125, so he worked out the thing and said I did it correctly. When the results came out I had scored nil for Maths. My father said I had at least one correct answer. They still said no, and so he went up to the School and asked to see the Papers. The School was right of course. I had made a mess of it, and on top of it all, unlike George Washington, “I had told a lie”. However, much to everyone’s surprise they took me in. Dad came into my Bedroom one morning and said, “After all, you are going to a school for young gentlemen!”

Owen’s was founded in 1613 by the Husband of Dame Alice Owen to commemorate her not losing her life when walking by the Stream in the fields of Islington. An arrow from the Butts (an archery practice field, with mounds of earth used for the targets) in an adjoining field came over the hedge and went through her hat – hence Owen’s School! (still going today; check out the School website where they are planning their 400th Anniversary in 2013 – see Link in my Blogroll. Dad’s version of the story is slightly different to the School’s but the arrow hits its mark! Wikipedia also has an entry for Owen’s). It was free education for 30 boys, 24 from Islington and 6 from Clerkenwell. When I arrived there were about 600 boys, all fee paying except for the locals – they were, of course, not the originals! The School was later taken over by the “Worshipful Company of Brewers” (still Trustees today) and became one of the many minor Public Schools run by the Worshipful Companies, i.e Merchant Tailors, Stationers (where my two Brothers Ray and Stan went), The Grocers, The Haberdashers, The Vintners, Latymer Upper and Lower Schools, City of London, Dulwich College, etc. etc. William Ellis was also in the same category (William Ellis was a businessman who, in the mid-nineteenth century, founded a number of schools and inspired many teachers with his ideas on education. He wanted children to be taught “useful” subjects such as science, which was a different approach for the times. William Ellis School in Camden (est. 1862), is the only one of his schools that still exists today – more info on the www if you are interested)  

In the early days, all the boys were given money at the end of the Summer Term to enable them to buy Beer to drink during the speeches on Speech Day. The amount depended on one’s age, and any boy absent on that day forfeited his “beer money”, and it went to the Head Boy – lucky chap! It’s still the custom today (check it out on the History page on the School website). It was really a marvellous school! It had everything and I mean everything! A Chemistry Lab, Science Lab, Physics Lab, Lecture Room with seating rising to the rear, Manual Room (I think Dad mean’s somewhere to do metalwork and woodwork, etc), a Gymnasium. The Art Room was huge and had a glass roof. The Canteen was run by Mr and Mrs Collins, the School Caretakers, who lived on the premises.

We had properly Qualified Masters. Mr Mauritzi (I think that’s Dad’s spelling), a Swede, was the Gym Master, nickname “Fitzi”. We had real Singing Masters and Art Masters. They were all either BAs or MAs. I had four Form Masters: “Dicky” Dare, Bill Baker, PC Rust and “Flash” Pete Hardwicke. “Dicky” Dare played Cricket for Essex. He also wrote the “History of Owen’s” in 1976 (A History of Owen’s School (1613-1976), R.A. Dare B.A). Bill Baker used to throw pieces of chalk, and my nickname was “Pipes” because I used to lean on the radiators. PC Rust wrote school textbooks on Mathematics. “Flash” Pete was a Canadian and came from British Columbia. He was a really smart chap. We had a school playing field at Oakleigh Park, ten acres of magnificent playing area, a pavilion, a house for the resident Groundsman and his Family and Classrooms for us.

We were either Upper, Middle or Lower Schools and went in turn to Oakleigh Park direct from home, either on Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday depending on your Grade. We did lessons from 9 -12 then Games, etc. I was in Lonsdale House and by 1928/29 I was Captain of my House, and was playing First Eleven Cricket and Football, and got my School Colours for both. Our Latin Master once wrote at the bottom of a page of translation, “Jesus Christ!”. One does not often get marked like that. I considered it a great honour! I can’t remember the exact date but I was in Form IVc, “Flash” Pete’s. We were on the fifth floor and it suddenly became very dark. A huge object passed close to the window blotting out the light. It was the “Graf Zeppelin”, passing over the City of London. I don’t know but I rather think it might have been its last voyage. It caught fire in America with large loss of life (actually Dad it was the Hindenburg in 1937 which caught fire in New Jersey, and this disaster spelled the end for commercial airships and ended the Graf Zeppelin’s passenger carrying life. What you saw could well have been the Graf Zeppelin’s first commercial transatlantic flight in October 1928, passing over London from Friedrichshafen on route to Lakehurst, New Jersey – if you are interested, see my Blogroll Links for more on the Graf Zeppelin).

I was not very fond of schoolwork and only did enough to get by. I suppose I could have done better, and wish now that I had tried harder. I found some subjects i.e. English Literature, Grammar, Geography and especially Art, easy to get along with. French and German I tolerated. History I liked but could not bother with. Arithmitic, Geometry and Algebra, I hated! Latin, I have already mentioned. My Manual Work was good and we made folding desks for the Art Room, with a panel of Scrollwork with our initials, fixed to the front. Gym was good. Funnily enough, although I never played many games up to the age of 12 because I was supposed to be a “weakling”, I developed amazingly and soon did well in most Sports. The fact that I played Cricket and Football for my House and eventually the School, kept me out of quite a bit of trouble over my work.

One of my best friends at “Owen’s” was Doug Smith. His Parents had two shops, one at Stoke Newington, and the other at Palmer’s Green opposite the Fox Public House, at the bottom of Fox Lane where they lived. He was in the Scouts, and one Summer he went to Looe in Cornwall for Annual Camp. He caught Meningitis and came home in a Coffin!

We had given up Sidmouth and had a couple of Holidays at Penmaenmawr in North Wales (Snowdonia, near Conwy). Lovely sandy beach, marvellous walks across Penmaenbach to Aber falls , trips to Conwy, F–light Glen (can anyone help?) and Dwygyfylchi down to Swallow Falls, and walks up to the mountain lake, Bala. One year, or rather, each year, to Llanberis and the walk to Mount Ywithwa (Dad: I think you mean Yr Wyddfa, or The Burial Place (in English)), which people do not realise is the highest peak in the Snowdon Range, the highest peak is not Mount Snowdon (Dad, the highest peak is Mt. Snowdon. The Welsh name for the mountain is Yr Wyddfa) (the walks are still marvellous today Dad! check out Wikipedia for Aber Falls or follow my Blogroll Links to whet your appetite!). Walking up the last part, called “The Saddle”, can be a nightmare, especially if it is cloud covered and windy! The path is narrow, and on the left, straight down, is the Llanberis Pass. The right-hand side is also dangerously steep! At the top is the end of the “Rack Railway”and the Restaurant. We, of course, did not use the Railway; it took about 5 hours to walk up and 2 to come down.

Marvellous holidays we had! Cousins Ernest and Vera usually came with us. We also joined up with a family from Liverpool, the Dalgarno Family; they stayed at the same Boarding House. I wonder what happened to them? One day we met a party of German Scouts. They were sitting on top of the hill overlooking Conwy and the Suspension Bridge. I’ve often thought about them; they must have been German Spies!

Grandma and Grandpa Harries had moved some years previously from Billericay to Harwell, then to Winchelsea near Rye in Sussex, and then to Stockens Green near Knebworth. Grandpa was retired, and Leonard was working at the Eastern Telegraph Company in London. Dad had got him a job there. Anyway Leonard got married in 1931. I was eighteen and I was his Best Man. He married a girl called Vera and the Reception was at the Knebworth Tennis Club; he was Captain there and quite a good player. He was also a marvellous pianist. They lived at Knebworth for a while, but Grandma and Grandpa moved soon to Mayfield Avenue at Southgate. Isn’t it strange how we follow one another around. Are Families still like that, or are the Harries’ peculiar?

My academic capabilities not being terribly outstanding, it was time for me to be casting about for a job, and if you are interested, you can read about it in the following pages…….

I suppose I did behave like a normal child on occasion. I was about ten when I had my first cigarette. Bernard Bull was a Day Boy who lived in Billericay. His father owned the Car Hire firm and whose large Limousine used to take us on holiday in the Summer. Bernard was an older boy and if I gave him twopence he would bring me five Woodbines or Player’s Weights. It made a change to have the odd fag. The other fourpence pocket money went on wafer biscuits.

We were permitted to use the Gymnasium during the evenings. It did not include me, but one evening it was dark, wet and miserable, I crept in and joined the other boys. It was marvellous! We were using the High Jump with a Spring Board to help take off. I of course fell on landing! The result was a very painful left arm. The next morning I had great difficulty in getting up and dressing. On the third morning I could not get out of bed at all, and so was taken to the Matron, and ended up with my broken arm in splints!

Matron by the way, was a great comfort (!) if we had a headache or felt sick. We visited her room where she soon “cured us” with the only medicine she had; a spoonful of Epsom Salts in a cup of warm water! Ever tried it? One did not go near the Matron if one could help it! Funny thing; it was at this time that I had a part in The School Play. I was “Mustard Seed” in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”. However, my dream of acting was soon over. Life had reached BOTTOM! The night of the Play arrived. The venue was a Theatre in the town. I was sitting in the Front Row with my arm in a sling. Mother and Dad, who were sitting a few rows back, had come all the way from Billericay to see their little boy in his first play. After the First Act when the lights came on, I was able to stand up and wave to them. I can’t remember what they said. The School of course had not told them of my accident. Anyway the School did not know how it had really happened, because I was not supposed to be in the Gym. So I told them that I had slipped in the rain when running round a corner to get in out of the wet! What a life!

I had very little control of my life. I spent it dodging Pinder and trying to make a Basket from Cane and Raffia, wanting to take part in things with very little success. I seemed always to be in trouble. The boys were playing Cricket one evening when we were just back from a holiday. I joined in and along came a Master. “What are you doing?”; “Just playing Sir.”; “You are not allowed to play are you?”; “Yes Sir! My Father said I could play this term.” Consequently a letter  was sent to Father. The answer was “No, I did not say he could play this term, he is still ill.” The result was two strokes of the cane on each cheek of the backside for telling lies. Gawd, what a Life! End of term.

On the bus going to Chelmsford. No, not to school. Where to then? To Chelmsford Hospital. Going to have my throat cut and the “lump” removed! Well, well! Can’t be worse than going to school!

All alone in a large room, quite a large bed. I suppose it seemed large, I really was only a little sod. Mask on my face, breathe in; asleep; wake up bandaged like a Mummy. Mother and Dad by the bed, a new life ahead of me. Jolly good! The Nurse used to come in with her hands behind her back and say; “Give me a kiss for what I’ve got behind me!” Cor, what a sauce! A kiss for flowers; sweets were alright! Anyway, I was in for some time, don’t know how long. Then home, and a scar from my left Ear to my Adam’s Apple! I’ve still got it. BUT, then I started to develop a bit. I could run and play, and I was no longer to be a Boarder!

Before I left as  Boarder I must tell you about Princess Mary’s Wedding Day (daughter of the Duke and Duchess of York, later George V and Queen Mary). It was April 1923 and she married the Earl of Harewood (Henry Charles George, Viscount Lacelles) (actually Dad they married on 28th February 1922). I believe he was a bit of a hard man. It was a special day for us. The Tea Table was laden with cream buns and we were allowed to eat as many as we liked. I was sick in bed for three days! By the way, since I broke my arm I was put in a room on my own to sleep. It was above the Dormitory in a sort of Attic. I was scared stiff on my own in the dark!

I’m now a Day Boy. So what? The only thing I can remember about being a Day Boy was travelling to school by train from Billericay to Chelmsford. Leonard, Dad’s younger Brother, still went to Brentwood School. We travelled on the same train. He got off at Brentwood and I got off at Shenfield and changed to another train for Chelmsford. I can remember walking from the Station to School but nearly everything else is a complete blank! The only thing I can remember from that time was that Ray, Stan and I used to go to Sunday School. We had a penny each for the Collection, so we used to put one penny in the Collection and spent the other two pence on sweets! One day we saved the sweets to eat in bed so I kept them in my pocket. After going up to bed, I crept down to get the sweets from my overcoat pocket hanging in the Hall. I got caught and suffered the consequences on my backside!

It’s a little worrying, because my memory is good regarding most of my life.

Well that was the end of Chelmsford and Billericay. In 1925 I was twelve years old and we moved to Old Southgate in North Middlesex and life for me took on a completely new complexion. Dad bought No. 12 Mayfield Avenue (Enfield, London, N14). It had been lived in previously by Auntie Rene and Cousins Ernest, Vera and Rene, the Family of Ernest, Dad’s Brother, who died after the War – they lived at Knebworth then. They moved to Cheshire and we moved in to their old house. I remember that day because I did not feel too good. Ernest and I clubbed together enough cash to buy 10 Spinet Cigarettes. The trouble was we did not want to take them home with us nor throw them away. So we had to smoke the lot in twenty minutes! It’s a funny thing! I can see that cigarette packet; white “SPINET” and in red letters”Full Size Cigarettes”. But very bitter. Much more so than “Doctor Blosser’s Medicated Cigarettes”, that were “so good for one’s heart”!

One Sunday in 1921 I’m sitting with Dad in the front seat on the upper deck of a bus going to Chelmsford. Yes, there were double decker buses in those days. The horse buses had gone, although Dad used to say that he had travelled from High Barnet  to work in the City by horse bus in the early 1900s, about 1905-6. Where are we……………? Oh yes, on the way to Chelmsford. Incidentally there was a hole in the floor in the driving cab of the bus so that the driver could let down a pointed steel rod which stuck, or was supposed to stick, in the road, if the bus should inadvertently stop on a steep hill and try to run backwards.

Chelmsford. We are outside a huge building! I’ve never seen a prison. I am only 8 years old but it certainly looked as if it could be one. There is a large double iron gate. It’s open and I look up at two huge pillars one on each side of the gate. On top of each pillar is a large eagle with its wings outstretched. It’s not a prison, it’s my new school, King Edward VI Grammar School, known as KEGS (established by Royal Warrant in 1551 and still going – see link).

Have you ever read Tom Brown’s School Days (Thomas Hughes, 1857)? Well his school had nothing on mine! I don’t remember meeting the Matron or any of the Masters, or saying goodbye to Dad. I remember going to bed in a dormitory with a lot of other boys, and I remember the next day because I was a new boy. We were called “Shrimps” and were led round the School buildings by two boys, one on each arm, followed by the other boys from the dormitory; the idea being that we were made to pick a fight with another newcomer. The chap I had to fight was very bony and had knuckles like iron! I can remember him quite well. He was taller than I and had fair curly hair, I think his name was Langley or something like that.

We wore knickers, stockings and lace-up boots; jackets without turn-down collars, because we wore “Eton” collars (a broad white buttoned collar worn over the lapels of a jacket which originated at Eton College in the 19C) with a tie. Lord knows how I managed to put a stiff collar on and tie a tie! I must have looked a sight! I don’t think I even did my hair in those days.

Lessons for us were in two huts by the side of the playing field near to the outside bogs – lavatories to ordinary people. There were two lady teachers for the small boys. Mine was a Miss Alterton. I don’t know what she taught because I don’t remember learning anything! However I do know something about Hiawatha (a poem, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 1807 – 1882) and his girlfriend Minnihaha sitting by the banks of something or other.

The School was well equipped for Sport; a large playing field attached to the School, and a short distance away another very large area of playing fields, and a good gymnasium.

The Headmaster’s name was Will Hey. His wife, a buxom woman, was called Amy. I met them both eventually. I’ll tell you about that later.

The food was atrocious, in fact putrid, and I really mean rotten! The meat was usually stew, and the meat was gray in colour and smelt badly. The gravy had tiny bubbles floating on top. I think each bubble contained a foreign body! The pudding was either Rice or sometimes Rice mixed with Porridge left over from breakfast, or Tart covered with stewed Rhubarb, which looked like dishwater with shreds of something floating in it! I reckon the tramps had better breakfast served in the Workhouse in Billericay. Tea was plates piled high with Bread and Margarine, and you had Jam or Paste if you had any in your tuck-box. All the boys carried envelopes at dinnertime to put their meat in and then throw it over the wall which bounded the playing field. After dinner we lined up in two rows to go into a little room where we were either given a dessert spoon of Cod Liver Oil or Scotts Emulsion (a Cod Liver Oil based tonic used for Generations and still available today).

On Saturdays as we passed out of the Dining Room we were given six (old) pence (would be the equivalent of about 75 pence today) by the Headmaster for pocket money. Prep was at 6 o’clock, except Saturday and Sunday, then at 8 o’clock we had the best meal of the day.

There was a large coal fire in the Dining Room, which was used as a Common Room in the evenings, and sliced bread was available. Not the sliced bread as we know it today, but real sliced bread, sliced with a knife and really good for toast. We could make toast and use our own Butter and Jam, and eat our own Cake if we had any. I used to write Home every week to ask for more Cake to be sent (I have some of Dad’s “begging” letters which I will put onto the Web as proof!). The food that we supplied ourselves was really the only edible and decent tasting food we got. Still we must not forget that there had been a war and that everyone was suffering in the aftermath of that war.

The long and the short of it was that I developed a swollen neck, a poisoned gland. I was not allowed to play games, do Gym or play in the playground. When the weather was warm I had to sit outside the Classroom to get as much fresh air as possible. My life was pretty traumatic at this time, and there are two moments worth telling, because even today they often come to mind. The only fun I really had was during holidays at home with the Family, and at “half-term merits”.

One lunchtime I was playing ball with some of the boys when the ball went into a corner of the field where the Headmaster kept some Chickens. I went after it and was chased by a Cockerel! I threw a clod of earth or a stone at it. The Headmasters Wife, buxom Amy was looking out of the window. She told the Old Man and I was hauled into his Study and lectured on throwing things at his Chickens. Result: two strokes (of the Cane) on each hand. I spent the next ten minutes with my hands on the cold stone of the Urinals before going back to the Classroom.

It was a Sunday morning when I was caught with my knees dirty! Usually we went in crocodile (formation) to Chelmsford Cathedral for Morning Service. This day I went with my Friend, whose name I forget and whose Parents lived in Australia. The Head Boy, named Pinder, passed us on the way and noticed that the back of my legs were dirty. He told me to report to his Room when I got back to School and to bring my Slipper with me. I did not do so, and lived in dread ever after!

The Family was increasing at a rate of knots! As I’ve said before, Dad did not waste time when home on leave, and Kath was born in October 1918; then came Margaret Joan , known as Peggy, on 29th February 1920 with a Birthday only one in four! A year later I was on the way to Boarding School, King Edward VI’s School, Chelmsford; a boarder at 8, Lord help us! Miss Boughtwood’s was bad enough! What sort of trouble was in store for me? I was already in trouble enough over simple things as for instance, one day I arrived at School late and could not get the door open. So in despair I went home. It being Summer, I sat in the long grass in the field behind the house, and waited for the Church Clock in the Village to strike twelve before going home. That was OK but what about the next day? I was frightened to go to School, so I sat in the field once more ’til twelve o’clock. The next day, sitting in the field for the third time, I must have dozed off because I miscounted the chimes and went home soon after eleven o’clock.

I was put to bed and got a tanning when Dad came home in the evening. The next morning I was given a  note to take to School to explain my absence. When I got to the Railway Bridge at the Station I was afraid to continue the journey, so I tore up the note, chucked it over the railway bridge and went home again. This time I did not sit in the field and I was eventually taken back to School by someone, I can’t remember who it was, and all was well, or as well as could be expected!

We were a real family. I the eldest stood out from the others; thin, pale, hair that did not look like anything, always in trouble, at least that’s what it felt like! If I kicked a football it was bound to knock some apples off the best tree in the Front Garden. Ray and Stan were tougher. Nice blond curly hair, well behaved, a couple of creeps… not really. I don’t remember much about Kath and Peg. They had a Governess to look after them, she even came on holiday with us!

After the War we always had three weeks holiday in August. We used to go in those early days to Southwold (in Suffolk) , a good spot for sands and walks. Dad used to hire a large car, it took the whole Family including the Governess. Had to have a chauffeur of course. Dad did not drive in those days, in fact he did not learn ’til I taught him in 1932. We never missed out on Pantomimes, Firework Nights and visits to friends. Our main friends who visited us were from Dad’s office; the Fairbairn’s,  the Sui….’s (sorry Dad – can’t read your writing – can anyone help?), the Levanski’s, who later changed their name to Beach.

Mother’s Parents visited us a lot and stayed quite often for long periods, especially during the War. Grandma looked like Queen Mary (the Wife of George V). I reckon they exchanged hats and used the same umbrella! (Check out the Photo of Annie Rebecca Fell (I95) on the Family Tree website – see Five Trees link) She was a real tartar! The Queen I mean! She would be wouldn’t she, after all she was a Kraut called Mary of Teck (? Dad she was actually British but descended from the German Dukes of Wuerttemberg). Anyway it was George V who changed his name to Windsor from Guelph (? Dad, he changed from the House of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha) George was a cousin of Kaiser Bill (Wilhelm II) (check out Georgie boy on Wikipedia if you are interested – see link) I must not say too much because Grandma Harries’ name was Jacobi and her half brother was a General Von Jacobi on The Kaiser’s Staff. Annie Caroline Jacobi – her Family later changed their name to Clarke and the Jacobi’s in England to Jacoby.

Mother’s brother Ron, was a fine chap. There’s a story to tell about him later if I get to it. He was in the War in Mesopotamia (now mainly in modern Iraq plus parts of Turkey and Syria – and known as “The Cradle of Civilisation”) fighting the Turks. His Regiment marched all the way from Palestine to Basrah via Damascus and Baghdad, fighting most of the way, and finally ending up in a Battle at Shaibah just outside Basrah, where there is now a Large rock named “Victory Fort”. I spent a year there in the last War (WWII). More about the relatives later.

Dad used to go off for weekends sometimes  and took me with him, usually to Burwell in Cambridgeshire, where his Uncle and Aunt ran the Village School (a reminder that most if not all of the Family whom Dad writes about can be found at Cousin Louise’s “Five Family Tree” Website – just follow the link).  Uncle Isaac and Aunt Emily had a house in the School which was a Church of England School. The only trouble was if the School was working when we went up, I used to have to sit in the front row of the class!

Grandma Harries was an old witch! She was always trying to make trouble between Dad and Mum, without success.

Time was passing. I was getting on and old enough to go to School. Stan and Ray were firm friends, despite Ray using Stan as a dartboard and a carving fork as a dart! Mother had had a haircut. I remember one evening Dad suggested she had her hair bobbed and offered to do it. She had lovely long hair done up in a bun, but no longer…! It looked terrible after he had finished with it!

Living in the country was good fun. We used to go into the woods to play, catch rabbits, even collect moor-hens eggs and cook them over wood fires and eat them hard boiled. Mother told us that one of her Uncles had been blinded. It was on Firework Night and coming home he looked up at a rocket and the stick came down in his eye and blinded him.

I’m not certain of the date but one night I was taken out of bed and stood on the windowsill of the back bedroom. Ray was a baby then and Grandma and Grandpa Newman were staying with us. There was a marvellous fire in the sky; it looked so near, almost as if it was in the field next door. It was a German Zeppelin and was coming down very slowly in flames. It had been shot down by one of our planes. The next morning Grandpa took Ray in the pushchair and me walking, over to see it. It was in a ploughed field and still smouldering. What a mess! Grandpa picked up some bits and kept them for years in a box in a cabinet in their Drawing Room.

At one time early in the War we had some 3 inch AA Guns in the field next to us. I don’t think they fired the guns although the Kraut “Taubes” (A WW1 monoplane resembling from below the shape of a pigeon – Taube in German – in flight) used to come over from the Southend direction to try to bomb London. Later we had Kraut P.O.Ws working in the  field, but they soon went away. In another field about half a mile away, there were three houses. Grandma and Grandpa Harries lived in one, with Daughter Rene (Irene) and youngest Son Leonard. Leonard was a Day Boy at Brentwood School and he went by train everyday. He was about three years older than me; a bit young to be my Uncle. He was Dad’s youngest Brother.

Rene was married to a chap who was in the Royal Flying Corps, I can’t remember his name (William Wood). He looked good in his uniform. He was killed late in the War. Dad’s other brothers were Ernest, who had three children: another Ernest, and Vera and Rene, and Laurie. Uncle Ernest died in the huge flu epidemic after the War, and Laurie, or Lawrence, was packed off to America years before, as were most “black sheep” of families in those days. He did reappear from time to time, but was sent back again. He did stock car racing for funds (I think that’s what he wrote!) in America until he started a fruit farm in Florida.

Anyway I am digressing.

Grandpa grew a lot of stuff. He had a lovely garden. He went up to London each day. He was manager of The Union Assurance Society of Canton, in Cornhill. When I was old enough to go to school I used to walk with him to Billericay Station; where he would give me a penny which I was supposed to save until I had enough to buy a donkey so that he could ride on it to the station!

Opposite Grandpa’s house lived a Captain in the Merchant Navy with his family. Their name was Bowles. Next to them was a family called Jolliman. They were Germans and the father was interned during the War. Anyway, Margaret Jolliman in those days was my age, and my friend. I remember one Sunday morning her Grandfather was chopping logs and he cut his thumb off! The Doctor would not see him because it was Sunday, and he should not have been working on Sunday!

The Doctor’s name was Shackleton. He was a cousin of Ernest Shackleton, the explorer. They used to go exploring together, I think because the Doctor was good with his knife. I don’t know if they were together when Ernest met up with Stanley (? Come on Dad! I think you are getting your eras and explorers mixed up! Shackleton would have been a contemporary of Scott). He was our Doctor and the one who attended Dad after he came home with his terrible abscess. He used to go on his rounds in a pony and trap. One Saturday morning he passed us in Stock Road and told us to go home because the “Taubes” were coming. The Doctor, despite his no nonsense methods was a good chap. He had to qaurterize (sic) me one day because Chum, our dog, had taken a bite out of my face! I approached him, the dog, from over and behind when he was dozing in front of the fire. So he reacted, and there I was; having a painful job done in the Doctor’s Dining Room. He always did odd jobs in the Dining Room. One Christmas Eve I sat at the corner of the Dining Room table and had a tooth out. He was Doctor and Dentist!

The Doctor and his family lived in a large house near the Church. I knew it well because when I was old enough I used to play with his Son in the yard at the back of the house. His Son was deformed and did not lead a normal life. He had a large head which was a common thing in those days. He could not play in public or go to School, so I was delivered to the house to play with him on Saturday mornings. When I was five I started School. I had to walk to the village; the School was just over the railway bridge up the hill past the Red Lion, and was called “Miss Boughtwoods” (Can anyone confirm the name?). All the children sat in one room. We learned to write and do sums and sing songs. Most of our writing was in exercise books and we did page upon page of pothooks and hangers ( a curved, S-shaped mark). Our sums were done on slates with slate pencils. Miss Mason did most of the teaching and all the boys were in love with her! Miss Boughtwood used to walk about; her hair was done up in a bun, she wore a white high-necked blouse with long sleeves and a black skirt down to her feet. The other lady played the piano. I do not remember her name but she used to come to our house on Saturday mornings to teach me the piano. I did not get on very well. I had lessons on-and-off for about eight years. I knew the scales and could read music, and even managed to play “Sweet & Low” (see link), but that was about all.

When Dad came home from the War and had recovered from his trials and tribulations, we spent a large part of our time in the garden. He was a great gardener! We had a marvellous bonfire one night. I don’t know which year it was but coal was officially rationed so Dad and a friend ordered ten tons at the pit head and it came down from Newcastle to Billericay by rail. They had to get it moved from the yard somehow, and because in those days Inspectors used to come round and inspect your coal stocks, he decided to bury his 5 tons. He dug a large pit at the bottom of the garden, tipped it in. All well and good, until one dark night the World appeared to be on fire! The bonfire that he had made at the bottom of the garden that Sunday had come to life! It was a beautiful blaze! I don’t know how much he lost but I suppose what he had left was worth it. Coal at that time was 1/- (one shilling) per cwt (one hundredweight = 50.8kg; 20cwt to the ton) at the pit head, and transport charges very reasonable.

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”!