Lest It Be Forgotten After I Am Gone: Recollections Of Relocations - 9
...Towards the end of our stay, father got a car with an engine that used coal gas instead of petrol, and had a huge coal-burning boiler on the back of the car, which provided fuel for the engine...
Raymon Benedyk tells of wartimne make-do-and-mend.
1941 – 1942 at ‘White Ladies’, Ashford Road, Harrietsham, Kent
It was really delightful living in the country during the summer of 1941 and, at long last, we were able to enjoy some peace from the rigours of living in London. Daily my father and I, together with Lou and Rene, would make the journey into London, sometimes by car when petrol was available and, more often than not by train or bus.
This was fine during the better weather but, during the winter, it was most unpleasant. Cars were not heated and, despite blankets and such, it was almost a torture having to travel in them. Also, car engines tended to freeze in the cold weather (no such thing as antifreeze), and the engine temperature had to monitored, to the extent of often having to stop on a journey to replace water boiled away from an overheated engine, to prevent damage to the car radiator because of lack of water. And, of course, bus or train travel during this period, was always problematical.
The cars we used during this period were nearly always of doubtful ancestry, and on several occasions when they broke down, we became regular customers of small garages on route whose mechanics were able to effect little repairs enabling us to complete our journey. On one occasion, the car battery, housed on this car in a special holding bracket under the car under the rear seat broke, allowing the battery to break free and scrape along the ground, only still attached to the car by the wiring. To enable us to continue our journey this time, I had to put my head and arms through the aperture under the floor of the car where the rear seat was supposed to be, and hold the battery in place off the ground so that we could complete our journey and get the bracket fixed later.
Towards the end of our stay, father got a car with an engine that used coal gas instead of petrol, and had a huge coal-burning boiler on the back of the car, which provided fuel for the engine. It was a bit of a monster, but most effective when we carried sufficient fuel to keep the burner going.
However, the uncertain times of getting to London each day, and the need to leave London in the evenings by a time which enabled us to catch a train or bus, effectively prevented me from working for anyone in town, so I started working for my father in his little business, where I became the ‘shlapper’ labourer, loading and unloading lorries of goods coming to our warehouse, generally being the ‘strong’ man within our warehouse, and helping the staff of women whose husbands were in the forces to run their machines and maintain them. As the boss's son, and being obviously still so innocent, I often had my leg pulled as the ladies talked on matters relating to their sexual problems. When one of them spoke of her husband’s “six inches of gristle” I pretended not to hear! Actually I rather enjoyed this work and soon found that my body began to acquire muscles where I didn’t realise I had not got them before. Despite the food shortages, I was really amazingly healthy and developing a nice physique. I also began to be more and more aware of the difference between Rene and myself and, although nothing ever happened between us, being treated by her more like a younger brother, I was ever more conscious of that difference.
When we returned to London in May 1942, we moved into a very nice apartment block called Crown Lane Gardens. As it happens, this was the same complex that Rene’s brother Alf moved into when he got married just before the start of the war. I had got very friendly with Alf and his lovely wife Rita, and quite often on my way home from school, which was nearby, I would drop in for a chat with Rita. She was only some five or six years older than me and I felt very close to her. Early in 1940, she had a baby who was named Nicola. One day when Nicola was quite small, and she was having her nappy changed, I saw my first live naked female! Some sixtynine and half years later when, quite by chance I met Rene again, and was reintroduced to Nicola at Rene’s eightyeighth birthday party, and told Nicola of my introduction to the female form, she was content to laugh it off – thank goodness!
