Open Writing

I remember the park and the worn brass handles that gave a measure of some sort, but I can’t remember what the measure represented. I only know we always tried to stretch our arms to cover the space.
I bet the brass handles are still there.

Not far from Greenwich is Blackheath and that was a very special place for once a year a big Fair took place on The Heath.
Those were the days when you could win really big prizes, and Mum and Dad would take us there. It would be dark at night when we would all go and the fair would be lit up like fairyland.

Mum and Dad would give us all sixpence to spend, and that gave us lots of rides and ‘goes’ on the glass cabinets which stood with the little electric cranes inside them. We would try to manoeuvre the cranes and pick up one of the gleaming prizes that lay there amongst the jelly beans,. It was all a matter of skill, but I never saw anyone pick up anything.

Mum and Dad would join with us on the rides and as they had married in their teens, they were only young themselves, and so enjoyed it all as much as we did. It was good to see Mum and Dad happy, as I knew it was hard sometimes for Dad to provide for us all. Women stayed home and looked after the house and family in those days, so there was only one breadwinner and times were not easy.

Fairs such as the ones I knew as a child do not seem to be around any more and the fairs today do not offer the big prizes that were there for us to win years ago. A plastic toy of little worth will not make a child’s eyes light up as ours did. It is very sad that children today have no knowledge of those wonderful Fairs of bygone days which gave such pleasure to many children who lived dull and drab lives.

Many children lived with fathers who came home drunk, spending more on drink than they gave their wives to live on. They would cause havoc and violence in the home, and would produce babies after babies which they could not really afford to keep. The older children were often forced to live their childhood as drudges, cleaning and helping the poor mothers to look after the little ones, and sometimes having to miss school to look after sick mothers.

For many children a lively imagination was the only way they could add colour to their lives, and I believe that it is due to the use of the imagination that the East End of London has produced many well known personalities in the Arts.

Our house had a shop at the front and behind was a park. This park covered a large area and there was a recreation ground for football, a big open air swimming pool, a playground with swings, slides, roundabouts and a sand pit. Over in another area were the Tennis Courts, and a big grass park where we girls would dress up and play May Queen’s and have picnics after school. In the summer holidays we would play out all day long. We never thought about being abused or kidnapped as children are today, and so we kept our childish innocence a bit longer. Of course we were told not to go with or speak to strangers, and this was drummed into us regularly.

On cold winter nights we would play I spy, looking in the shop windows near us. We lived in the middle of a row of six shops. At the corner where the entrance was to the park we had Mrs Kirk’s shop. This was our shop for sweets, and groceries, though she never sold the unsalted butter Mum liked and I used to go to a shop further along our street to get that.

Every season had its games. Whipping top, hopscotch, marbles, roller skates, cigarette card swapping, hula hoops , Yo Yo’s and many more too numerous to mention.

There was a pub on the corner of the other side of the park entrance and I used to love hearing people singing on a Saturday night on their way home after the it had closed. My bedroom faced the street and I would listen to them the same songs Mum and Dad would sing with us on a Sunday evening.

Some would be drunk, and they all sounded happy. My parents never went to the pub but would have a drink at home with friends or family when it was a special occasion. They used to think it was shocking to see children outside the pub while their Mums and Dads were inside, drinking. This was a part of life that was the East End, and one that many children grew up with, understood and accepted. So long as they had a packet of chips and a lemonade while they were waiting they didn’t seem to care.

With my bedroom facing the street, I felt comforted by the light of the buses as they passed the house. Their headlights would move across the room as the bus went by and because I was afraid of the dark I would imagine all sorts of horrible creatures lurking in my bedroom. The bus passing would comfort me and so make me feel less frightened. I would lie awake and wait till the last bus had gone. Then all would be still and quiet. Mum and Dad would be in bed asleep and I knew I was all alone. I would lie there sometimes till it was morning afraid to go to sleep but I never told Mum about this as you kept things to yourself in those days, but it was a very bad time for me.

Some nights the toffee apple man would come round the streets, always walking in the middle of the road with his barrow. We would hear him call ‘Two a Penny Toffee Apples’ just after we children were tucked up in bed. Mum would get cross when we would call out, ‘Can we have a toffee apple please Mum’. 'No! you can’t it’s not good for your teeth.’ was her usual reply, although she did surprise us a few times and brought one up to us.

His call was loud so we couldn’t miss him but why did he have to come so late we wondered?

At times during the holidays a man would come round the streets with a horse and cart. It was only a little horse and on top of the cart he had a roundabout which was also small. It could fit eight children squashed together on the little seats. We had to climb up a little wooden ladder to sit on the seats while he turned the roundabout with his hand Round and round we would all go. The ride did not last very long but we all loved it. An empty jam jar was the price for a ride and we would rush to get as many jars as we could from relatives and neighbours before he moved along down the street.
I often wondered why he wanted the empty jars but I never asked so I have never found out.

The Isle Of Dogs was made up of many nationalities and religions. People helped each other and if the man of the house was sick and could not work or when the mother was ill and the children needed care, people mucked in, and no family was left in trouble. If a man was very drunk and violent there would be men from other families who would go and ‘sort him out’.

It was a close community and looking back I feel privileged to have been a part of that life and had the opportunity to experience the close knit community spirit that existed in the East End of London at that time. It made me grow up understanding what poverty and social inequality does to people and how unfair life can be for some.