Open Writing

In the early 1950s I became a member first of the Boys Brigade and then the Boy Scouts. Neither organisation captured my imagination and I soon dropped out. Perhaps this could be put down to my restricted social contact over a fairly long time. Looking back at this period in my life, however, I realise that it may have been due more to my individualism which was very strong at the time.

Although I had never owned a bike and had only ridden for any length of time on that fateful occasion, I nevertheless began to ponder the possibility of obtaining one. The central issue was how to get hold of enough money. The local newsagent was looking for a delivery boy at 10 shillings a week, 50 pence in today's money. I had to make deliveries at seven every morning Monday to Saturday and every evening after school. There was also Sunday morning delivery at eight o'clock. My round took just under an hour.

After three months I had saved enough money to go looking for a cheap secondhand bike. I trawled around Nottingham visiting all the shops. Eventually I came across one for which I paid £6. The frame was manufactured by a company called Duke, a name of which I had never heard. This was to become a significant feature in my life amongst Nottingham's cycling aficionados for several decades.

Almost coincidently with my acquisition of a bike, my father took delivery of a brand new motorcycle combination, a 500cc Norton Dominator. In 1951 Norton was the premier name in world motorcycle racing. The Dominator had emerged out of the technological developments of the company's success on the racetracks of the world. As a consequence my father's machine attracted quite a lot of attention. Attached to it was a Swallow sidecar. My mother would travel in it whilst I would ride pillion behind my father.

This was the period in my life when my enthusiasm for motorcycling exceeded that for pedal power. I travelled pillion with a number of members of Notts and District Motorcycle Club. Attendance at grass track events, road races and trials were all part of my social repertoire in the early 1950s. Saturday afternoons were spent at Hooley's motor cycle showroom and repair workshop, the traditional meeting place for members of N&DMC.

Although my interest in motorcycling began to wane towards the end of 1952, I still travelled extensively on our reliable and faithful combination with my parents on day trips and holidays. On one particular holiday in Devon and Cornwall I was rude to my mother. She told me father to stop. She did no more than get out of the sidecar and walk away without saying a word. My father's response was to put me in the sidecar and travel the 300 miles journey back to Nottingham, most of it during the night.

Around five pm the following day my mother walked through the door of our house as if she had just returned from a visit to the shops. The following morning we set off again on holiday, this time to North Wales.

My parents retained the combination until 1957 when they sold it to fund a European holiday.

In all marriages there are periodic disagreements between husband and wife. From time to time my mother would let loose at my father. I must have got it into my head that I was permitted to pass judgement on one or both of my parents. I recall making a critical comment about something my father had said or done. He responded by saying, "I don't mind you criticising me for things I say or do which you don't like but you should give equal consideration to my good points". Over the years I came to regard this statement as a pretty good yardstick by which to judge people.

It is likely that my father's liberal views helped shape my own view of the world. I remember him telling my mother and myself one day that a conductor of West Indian origin had been assigned to him. After a few weeks as his 'mate' he told my father he liked working with him and would like to become his permanent conductor or, in the jargon, 'have a full bus with you'.

My cousin Clifford married Elsie, a London girl, soon after his return from Burma, now Myanmar. They went to live in the Radford district of Nottingham, an area of numerous small bathroomless working class terraced housing. Here my great cousin Richard was born in 1948. I was a regular visitor to their house and it was not long before I was regularly taking him for walks in his pushchair. I always earned myself a glass of lemonade and something to eat for my troubles. On a good day Elsie would also give me sixpence (two-and-a-half pence).

I continued to make these sojourns until the early 1950s. I suppose it is further evidence of my 'loner' lifestyle, which was much in evidence at this stage in my life.

My mother's sister Win and husband Jack lived about a mile away on the other side of The Forest. My cousin Jean used to take me for walks in my pram on Woodthorpe Park when we lived in Sherwood between 1937-39.

I cannot recall seeing much of them during the war years. Uncle Jack was away in the army, but I do recall Jean going off on a transatlantic liner out of either Southampton or Liverpool as an American GI bride. She married an American soldier who she had met in Nottingham. She was only 18 years old. After all we had been through for six years and with the prospect of many more years of austerity, it was understandable that America was seen as an escape. Her husband worked in the steel industry in Charleroi, Pennsylvania.

A pattern developed very early on in the marriage whereby Aunt Win visited Jean during the summer for about three months and Jean reciprocated by coming to the UK the following year for a similar lengthy visit. This became a permanent feature of their family until 1962 when the marriage fell apart.

On one of her visits to the UK in the early 1950s Jean arrived with her baby daughter Darralyn. I recall my father giving mother and daughter a lift in his motorcycle combination. Darralyn expressed excitement at the prospect of riding in the 'buggy'.

The immediate post war years witnessed a fairly healthy social relationship between our two families. There was a period during the early 1950s when this broke down. This was a direct result of me riding my nearly acquired 'Duke' bike along one of the perimeter rounds of The Forest straight past my aunt and uncle without acknowledging their presence. For this grave offence no contact was made for several years.