Open Writing

I was born on Shrove Tuesday, 9th February, 1937, in Nottingham City Hospital.
It was a difficult birth and my mother was to spend three months in hospital. I was told in later life that she nearly died.

This was long before the National Health Service had come into existence, and it posed something of a financial burden for my parents. Needless to say I never had any brothers or sisters.

My mother always regretted that she did not have a daughter. This became clear quite early on in life. My hair was grown long for a late 1930's boy, and I was told later in life that many people thought I was a girl.

My name was chosen for me literally at birth. The midwife asked my mother what I was to be called. She probably had not even thought of a name for me. I was given my father's name in response to the question. I was subsequently known as 'little Eric' whenever in my father's presence.

I have no recollection of any events in my early years, but photographs taken in the pre-World War Two period do provide some insight into my life during that short idyllic period before the long winter of austerity descended upon us.

We lived in a modest sized house - 9 Crosman Street, Sherwood, Nottingham. My parents had lived there since their marriage in September 1934. My father had joined Nottingham City Transport as a bus conductor in 1932. He trained as a driver in 1934 and continued in this occupation until he retired on his 65th birthday in April 1971.

My mother had worked for John Players, the cigarette manufacturer, before her marriage. The company was one of the 'big three' companies in Nottingham alongside Boots the Chemist and Raleigh Cycles. She gave up working after my birth because of the convention of the time that wives and mothers did not go out to work.

She was the daughter of Frank and Elizabeth Crane, who were married in 1898. I never knew either of them. My grandfather died in 1908, aged 35, less than a year after my mother was born. My grandmother died of TB in 1914, aged 34 years.

My mother thus became an orphan at seven years of age. I believe this tragic start to life, although not unusual during the early years of the 20th Century, shaped her personality and outlook on life.

I never knew my father's parents. I laboured for many years as a little boy under the illusion that my grandparents were his parents. They were, in fact, my great grandparents. I only learned of 'the reality' many years later and then almost by default. Although I cannot remember anything about my great grandfather, who died in 1941, I was constantly told by my mother that 'he was a lovely man'.

I do have recollections of my great grandmother being a very caring and affectionate lady. By reference to some photographs and images I have of her she was clearly a 'rock' to my parents. Indeed my mother in later years always spoke of her as 'a wonderful lady'. My cousin Jean, who knew both my great grandparents, also told me when I was well into adulthood that they were a lovely couple.

I can well understand that my mother would cherish entering my father's family after many traumatic years being moved like a 'pass the parcel' object between the age of seven and early adulthood.

My affection for my great grandmother was to continue for many years. I recall asking after her health after being told that she had been admitted to hospital. I asked if I could visit her on more occasions than I care to recall, only to be told that it was not possible. I vividly remember the day when I asked if I could visit her on the last occasion. My mother curtly replied, "Grandma's dead." I later learned that she had died in 1946, and although I cannot recall which year it was when I received this stunning news. I am certain there were two digits in my age. That would make it 1947 and perhaps even later.

During the summer of 1939 just before the outbreak of the Second World War, my parents moved house to 42 Birrell Road, Forest Fields, Nottingham.

When I asked them many years later why they had made the move, they did not cite any particular reason and I detected that they had regretted doing so.
Scanning through the photographs taken during the period leading up to the outbreak of war, it becomes clear that |I was loved and well cared for by my parents. My great grandmother appears in many of the photographs, as do my mother's sister Win, and her husband Jack and cousin Jean. At least one holiday was taken in Skegness prior to the war. I am seen playing on the sands and enjoying a donkey ride.

Aunt Win, Uncle Jack and Jean appear to have had a fairly close relationship with my parents. Jean told me in later years that she used to go on walks with me in a pushchair.

Aunt Sarah, my mother's eldest sister, does not appear to feature so prominently in my very early life. Her husband Harold and my cousin Clifford do not appear in any photograph album of the time, so I can only presume that they followed a different direction in life.

My mother had lived with Sarah and her first husband Abraham during her early teens following several years living with different foster parents. Aunt Win had also been fostered out following the death of my grandmother. Sarah, being older, was able to fend for herself; she married Abraham during her teens.

There appears to have been a fairly lengthy period of time during which my two aunts sought to locate my mother. She was never very willing to talk about this traumatic period in her life.

She did however tell me fascinating stories of her time when she was living with foster parents in Ilkley in the then West Riding of Yorkshire, walking up to the Cow and Calf Rocks and over Ilkley Moor to Keighley. She must also have visited Skipton quite often as it regularly crops up in her stories.

I cannot piece together that period in my life between the ages of two and eight with anything other than distant recall. Sequential events are conspicuous by their absence. The best I am able to do is refer to events as I recollect them. Having few photographs to refer to owing to the war effort for most of this period in my life and no relatives, family or friends alive, anecdotes is the best I can do.