Open Writing

After a while Mum decided that I was too old to carry a doll around and looked too silly because I was now growing fast and was very tall for my age. Without my knowledge she gave my Rosebud doll to a cousin I didn’t like. One day I saw Rosebud lying in Gran’s Ariey with her head off. I think Mum would be upset if she had known how this hurt me.

Going away for a summer holidays was not a part of the life style of East Enders in those days. We were lucky children though because we were taken on day trips of a Sunday. Quite a lot of the community went hop picking in Kent. That way they earned money and also got away for a break to the country. Big lorries collected families and off they went, returning a week later with big green apples to give to friends. I had never seen such big apples in the shops.

Southend-on-Sea was a real treat for us. We went there on a big steam train. It is the smell of the smoke that lingers in my memory and makes me relive those times as if they are happening now.

Mum would be all dressed up, looking smart, with high heels which by the end of the day were crippling her so she could hardly walk. This was something Mum always did because new shoes were part of the fashion image she was obliged to portray. She was not alone in this as so many women did the same and because of this have suffered with bunions and bad feet all their lives.

There was mud instead of sand when the tide was out and this was really something to see. A mile of mud to walk through to get to the sea, but we children never bothered. You could smell the strong salty smell of the sea and there were cockles and winkles, soft ice cream and the fun fair on the famous Southend Pier, and after that the ride home on the train. What more could a child ask for? Who cared about the mud?

I have memories of days out going by bus and riding into the country with Mum and Dad. I must not forget to mention the Sunday trips to Hyde Park where Mum and Dad could listen to the Soap Box orators.

That was the time of Moseley and his Black Shirts who were blatantly spreading the word of Facsisim in the East End of London. This was the time of the Cable Street riots and there were not many working class people who were not politically minded in those days - and rightly so, for they had little to lose, but hoped to gain a lot if the right party came into power.

Another of our famous London parks was Regents Park, which contained London Zoo. On other Sundays we would go to Hampstead Heath. Some Sundays we would all be dressed in our best clothes to go andvisit our paternal grandparents. They had an antique shop at one time and I used to be fascinated by some of the ornaments and furniture in their home.

I loved those visits as all the brothers, sisters and their families would be there. It was good to see Mum and Dad, laughing, joking and also having heated political discussions. We children would play with our cousins and I would feel very happy. It would be late at night when we finally left, and we children would fall asleep on the bus going home.

So we had many Sunday trips, and I reckon we were very fortunate children because all those outings cost money. We had our first real holiday in August 1939. This was to be for two weeks with Mum, Aunt Con and Grandma. Dad was to visit at week-ends. We went to Basildon, but war was imminent and Dad thought we should all return before the two weeks were up. So that was the end of our holiday.

We were very lucky children having family living nearby, as this allowed us to grow up feeling secure and protected. Aunt Connie, Mum’s youngest sister lived a few houses along the road. She was only ten years older than me, so she was like a sister. She married at nineteen and seemed to be well off as she was always buying expensive food, such as mushrooms and cream cakes. Well that was how it looked to me at that time.

Next door to my aunt lived my maternal Grandma who I visited nearly every day after school. She was a great comfort to me and sometimes would give me some of my uncle's tea I never had any of the steak as that was too expensive but the mashed potatoes and thick Bisto gravy was a real treat, and I loved it.

I was born on my Gran’s fiftieth birthday, and I was her first grandchild. Maybe that is why I always felt such a strong bond with her. Grandma would never put on the gas light till it got very dark. She was left a widow with seven children when she was forty and had learned how to live on a very tight budget. We would sit in the glow of the firelight. I would talk, and she would listen. T

here was a black stove with a kettle always on top of it, steaming away, ready for a cup of tea for whoever called. I loved my Grandma and I really enjoyed being with her. I would sit and watch her comb her long grey hair, and when she had finished she would take the hair that was in the comb, hold it in her fingers and twist it into a string. With this she would tie the end of her plait and so stop the plait from unwinding . Then she would wind the plait round and round the back of her head and with large hair pins she would pin it, holding it in place. While doing this the curling tongs would have been heating on the gas ring. Holding them near to her face she would test their heat and when she felt they were the right temperature she would curl her short fringe. This daily ritual would be in readiness for her youngest son, my Uncle Bill, coming home from work. Most men of his age were married in those days but he was the breadwinner and needed to help Gran.

Hair done, now was the time for the daily change of overall. This was always a pretty print cotton, which crossed over and folded across her big tummy and was tied at the back. Poor Gran had bad feet and wore black plimsolls. When all these preparations had been completed Gran was ready to sit in her chair, resting and reading the evening paper. The Star.

This was ‘her time’ and she deserved every minute of it. At one end of the room was an old organ which my Grandfather used to play, and sometimes my Aunt Con would play it and sing. She was great and my Mum and my Aunt had good voices. Granddad who died before I was born, was supposed to be a great pianist and played and sung all over London. He was a ‘ladies' man’ so I have been told and he would be out all the time, working by day on the wharves and out all night, leaving my poor Grandma at home with the children. He was a bully and a drunk like a lot of men were in those days. Mum used to say that she wished he was still alive so she could give him a piece of her mind.

Grandma had a very hard life with him by all accounts and I used to feel very sorry for her when I looked at her stooped figure and the plimsolls on her poor feet. She had no real enjoyment out of life, especially as her beloved twin daughter died at twenty-one. How could she live through such traumas and be so nice? This set an example for me which I have always tried to follow. I often wonder if Gran knows what an important part she played in my life. I would like to think she does.

Every Saturday I would do her weekend shopping and she would give me a penny for doing so. . This is the way we children were able to save and buy the birthday presents and Xmas gifts for her and Mum and Dad.