Open Writing

No.42 Birrell Road only had neighbours directly adjoining on one side. There was a passageway on the other side of the house. No.44, which adjoined us, had two middle-aged spinster sisters living there, Hilda and Mabel. They were decent people but inevitably thin walls between residences meant that one was constantly aware of 'goings-on' next door.

The wireless, or radio as it is called today, was frequently a source of conflict. Ours stood on the sideboard which backed on to the adjoining wall. My father was very fond of the comedy programmes, ITMA being a particular favourite. The combination of the radio transmission and laughter invariably resulted in a wall-tapping spell of activity until my father had subdued his laughter and turned down the sound volume. Peace once again being restored.

At No.46 lived the Rice family. They had a son named Brian, who was a bit younger than me. Mr Rice was also a Nottingham City Transport driver on the West Bridgford routes in the south of the city. These served Trent Bridge cricket ground and Nottingham Forest Football Club ground. My father drove on the Bulwell and Bestwood routes in the north of the city.

During the 1930s they had played together in the Transport Department band, Mr Rice the clarinet and my father the saxophone. My father let his musical talents go into decline during the War and never re-kindled his enthusiasm for either the saxophone or the violin. I understood him to be an accomplished player of both instruments. I recall him having an occasional practice on his violin but I never heard him play the saxophone. He did encourage me to take up the violin. Sadly, despite a few coaching sessions, I never took to it and much to my father's credit but very much in keeping with his personality, he did not pressure me to continue with it as soon as he realised I was not happy doing so.

No.40 Birrell Road was home to the Smedley family. There were three daughters. The youngest, Pauline, was a few years younger than me. She was a very timid creature and I took advantage of this by surprising her as she emerged from the passageway which separated our two houses by shouting 'boo'. She would then do an about turn and run into the back door of her house. Mr Smedley found out about my antics and threatened to box my ears. I was brought to heel and my teasing ways were curtailed.

At No.34 lived the Hurt family. I attended Forest Fields Primary School with their daughter Vivien. I cannot recall whether she was in the same class as me but we did walk home together, quite often holding hands. I suppose this was my first romantic encounter. Owing to boys and girls being separated from junior school days onwards female socialising became something of a desert until I found myself dating my first girl during National Service many years later.

There were other neighbours, but my encounters with them were only sporadic. 'Nosey' Mrs Cole across the road at No.33. The Bartons at No.37 who, a few years after the end of hostilities moved to manage a pub in Loughborough. At No.1 were the Whites who lived over the premises of their plumbing business. They were the only family on the road which owned a car - a Morris, probably mid-1930s model. Other residents looked on enviously as the family car bounced over the setts or cobbles as they sped off on one of their frequent Sunday trips.

There were two other businesses on Birrell Road, Murfitt's Fish and Chip shop and Badder's sweet shop. I hated being sent out to queue for fish and chips. Mr Murfitt was OK; he got on with cutting the potatoes up and placing them in the fryer and doing likewise with the fish. He was a man of few words, just enough to keep the punters happy.

His wife was a different kettle of fish, if you will excuse the pun. She was an incessant chatterbox. Talking was her raison d'etre. Her passion knew no bounds, particularly during the winter months. The customers had escaped from cold houses and found themselves in the warm confines of the chippy. They were in no hurry to depart. They were quite happy to keep a conversation going all night. The fish and chips could wait. This was immensely frustrating for me to have to suffer a continuous torrent of 'grown-up' conversation.

Badder's sweet shop business was subjected to rationing throughout the whole of the time we lived in Birrell Road. Each person had a ration book in which there were coupons for all types of rationed goods - butter, sugar, meat, confectionery, shoes, clothes were all subjected to a maximum,weight or quantity. A coupon was cut out of the book for each type supplied. When you had used up your coupons you were unable to buy anything of that type until the next month. Around one hundred grammes of sweets or chocolate per month for each person was all that Mr Badder was able to supply. A family would save up its coupons in the months leading up to Christmas and then cash in the lot in an effort to generate a supply for the festivities.

The Sandford family lived on the other side of Berridge Road at No.91 Birrell Road. There were three sons and one daughter. I was terrified of them all. The youngest, Gordon, was the same age as me and attended the same schools. Perhaps because of his upbringing in a tough family, he was blessed with the reputation of being a hard lad. You argued with him at your peril, something I always avoided, being more concerned with keeping on the right side of him.