She's Back Again: An East End Childhood - Part One
Today we have the pleasure of introducing a new Open Writing columnist, Lorraine Roxon Harrington. Lorraine was a model for a top London fashion house, a businesswoman and a highly successful charity fund raiser. She has lived in various parts of England, New Zealand, and her home now is in Queensland, Australia.
Lorraine has a lively mind and a fund of rich experiences. She will be contributing week by week to this Web magazine, writing under the title She's Back Again.
By way of an introduction Lorraine brings a vivid description of her early life in The Isle of Dogs, which is in London's East End. She grew up there during the war years, and her story is archived in London's Imperial War Museum.
The Isle of Dogs, is an area in The East End of London. Some write that it was given that name because Queen Elizabeth I used to run her dogs on the Island when she was in residence at Greenwich Palace, but there are those who say it has changed over the centuries from The Isle of Docks.
However no one really knows for certain, but I like to think of Queen Elizabeth with her courtiers, crossing the Thames in their Royal Barges and letting the dogs run. It certainly conjures up a more interesting picture.
‘The Island is called an island because the area is surrounded by water. It is based in the “U’ of the River Thames shown on the maps of London. To leave the island you had to cross over a bridge or under the river by a foot tunnel.
When war was declared, I was twelve and a half years of age and was a pupil at Millwall Central School. My name was Violet Smith, and we were a family of six. There was Mum and Dad and I had three younger brothers.
I remember us as a close, loving family.
I must say the war did a lot of harm but as the saying goes, ‘Out if evil cometh good, and the one good that came out of the bombing was the demolition of houses ridden with bugs, mice and fleas. Most of these slum houses were owned by the Church and I can understand why my parents were non believers and could see no good in religion, when the Church authorities allowed such houses to exist while collecting rent for them.
The area has now changed and part of it is called Dockland. New very expensive town houses have been built where once the wharves were, and by their side are moorings for the owners' boats. I have heard it called a ‘Yuppie Area’. This is a name given to the affluent young who grew up when work and money was flowing in abundance.
As a child I would sit at The Island Gardens which was a park at the end of our street. The gardens had a play ground with a cafeteria and were beside the river. This is where the underground tunnel to Greenwich is situated. It stands as it was , and the war has not changed it.
Before the war it was usual for me to sit on one of the park benches on my own, and watch the boats go up and down the river laden with cargo .
The Thames’ was always dark brown and murky, with bits of old wood and rubbish floating along with the current. Hours would go by and I would write down the names, and draw the flags of the boats as they sailed along the river.
My thoughts would carry me away to the countries where the boats had came from and as I was a child with a lively imagination quite a lot of my time was spent in day-dreaming.
There was a particular smell around the wharves, and I have always been receptive to all sorts of aromas. For myself, a smell is the easiest way to evoke memories of the past.
One such smell was of something called Locus. There would be lots of it lying on the ground in the street near the wharves and we children would pick it up and eat it. It was sweet to taste and many years later when on holiday in Spain I saw this particular curved shape fruit hanging from big trees. The fruit was a nice fresh green colour but it was black and dried when we used to eat it.
We had no idea if it was really suitable for human consumption but we all ate it and no harm came to us. I think it was ground and used as cattle food. In those days we children never thought of hygiene , and maybe a few of the germs we picked up gave us some protection from later diseases. Who can tell?.
Lots of children would go to the wharves and play on the barges moored by the river. We were never allowed to go near them because it was dangerous and children had been known to drown or get crushed between two barges.
We never knew of any child who got hurt but that was the story Dad told us and that was good enough to keep us away.
We were lucky children as a park backed on to the end of our garden and although a great deal of poverty existed in the East End of London, children never seemed short of parks to play in. There was Greenwich Park with Plum Pudding Hill, and The Island Gardens where the large domed entrance to the foot tunnel was situated.
Down in the round iron lift and a walk through the tunnel and then up again in another lift just the same , and there you were across the water at Greenwich. We took it all for granted but I was always aware of the river above us as I walked through the tunnel.
Sometimes I would play a game with myself imagining that the tunnel suddenly cracked and all the river came rushing in. This would make me run fast through the tunnel in order to beat the imaginary water. White glazed tiles covered the curved walls of the tunnel which were always wet with condensation and I used to think it was the river seeping through till I learned different.
We children would shout out loud while running through the tunnel so we could hear the hollow sound and echo our voices would make. It was all so exciting and the use of the tunnel was free for everyone to use, and still is today.
Greenwich is of course famous all over the world for the Greenwich Meridian, Greenwich Mean Time and the fact that Queen Elizabeth I resided there. However that did not mean much to us children then, even though we were taught about it at school.
(To be continued next Thursday)
