I was born on Monday 22 October 1945 at the Tyringham House, "East End Maternity Hospital", Tyringham-cum-Filgrave, Filgrave Road, Olney East End Maternity Hospital\", Tyringham-cum-Filgrave, Filgrave Road, Olney" , Buckinghamshire a small parish two and half miles north of Newport Pagnell. Throughout World War 2 [2] it was normal at that time for pregnant mothers to be evacuated to maternity hospitals away from the dangers of the Blitz. The East End Maternity Hospital was a converted country manor house set in the heart of the country. [3]
Known prior to its use as a maternity hospital as Tyringham House, it is located north west of Tyringham Church and was built in 1792 by Sir John Soane. The house had been altered and replaces an older one that had stood for several centuries. Its conversion to a maternity hospital during the Second World War must have seen many changes to accommodate its new purpose. The house was located on the banks of the River Ouse having a handsome entrance lodge and gateway also built by Soane's.
My birth weight was given as 6lbs 12ozs and delivered at 5.00 pm, attending doctor was Hayman Jones. [4] No one from the family was at the birth; Dad was still on active service and was informed of my birth by telegram [5] . The news was sent to a field post office somewhere in Egypt on Saturday 3 November 1945, twelve days after the birth. The message read:
"SON BORN MY THOUGHTS ARE WITH YOU GOOD LUCK
ANN RAYNHAM"
Dad was serving with the Royal Ulster Rifles in the Middle East at the time of the birth, only a few days earlier rioting had broken out in Egypt as Arabs joined in mass demonstrations on the 28th anniversary of the establishment of a Jewish homeland in Palestine. [6]
Modern map locating the villages of Tyringham and Filgrave.
Birth certificate.
Born six months after the defeat and surrender of Germany in War World 2 [7] a Europe devastated by nearly six years of war. In Britain major centres of population had been bombed leaving the new Labour Government, [8] following its landslide victory with the task of rebuilding the country. The task required action on housing [9] , employment and social reform including health and nationalisation of essential services.
Robert Charles Raynham (me) 7 weeks old, 12 December 1945.
German V2 Rocket Chart for the East End
The East End of London, where Mum and Dad had been born had received some of the worst damage during the Blitz, the docks along the River Thames, factories and indiscriminate bombing of houses, schools and utility services. Even as late as the autumn of 1944 through to the spring of 1945 the East End was being subjected to long range V2 rocket attacks.
The East End.
Initially after birth we lived in a couple of rooms in a terraced house at 11 Nicholas Road, Stepney and was baptised Saturday 15 December 1945 at St Michael's and All Angels, Little Ilford, Manor Park, London E12 . Godparents were George Coram and Iris Raynham [10] ; they were Dad's uncle and younger sister. The venue would appear to have been the local church where grandfather Charles Edward Raynham [11] was living at 1a Little Ilford Lane .
With Europe shattered by war, Britain was still experiencing severe difficulties and in early 1946 rationing returned, due to world food shortages and the need to feed the starving millions in Germany. Rather interesting was the government's decision to issue a recipe for squirrel pie in the spring of 1946 as well as promising to introduce free school milk and dinners and make penicillin freely available by late spring of 46. The cost of buying a small saloon car was around ?280 [12] with milkman demanding a minimum wage of ?5 4s 6d a week it would take over a year's wages to buy one. Today the average full time wage earner could buy a new car after just a few months of work.
The black market was in full swing with nylons, chocolates, perfume and other scarce goods in demand, no doubt the East End with its "spivs" and criminals were playing a significant supporting roll. Technology came to the humble writing pen when journalist Ladislao Biro created the Biro pen, the cost of owing such a pen was ?2 15s 0d about ?64 today far cry from the 5 for quid down the market today.
On Monday 30 September 1946 [13] we were re-housed to 8 Palm Street , Bow E3. The accommodation was specially built prefabricated single storey houses, known as "prefabs" and occupied land that had been cleared following WW2 bombing. [14] Our house was the standard cottage bungalow style with two bedrooms, living room, inside toilet, fitted kitchen and what always appeared to be a large, but bomb-damaged garden. Many a time large lumps of fused building material was unearthed.
For Mum and Dad this council accommodation must have been the height of luxury, with the inside privy, bath, refrigerator, cooker and wash boiler and off course their own garden. It also had something which the older slum housing did not, privacy. For the first time families had sufficient room and space to enable them to live a more a private life, this could also be seen as a contribution to the loss of "community" and the start of the break up of the family unit. Certainly by the standards of the time these were relatively comfortable homes, although still cold they were certainly better than the Victorian terraced house that Mum and Dad had been previously sharing.
The rent for the pre-fab at the start of the tenancy was 10s. 3d. per week plus 5s. 7d. for rates and water charges, this equates to ?12 and ?6.50p in today's terms.
They would have previously lived life in overcrowded and cramped accommodation, bed sharing and poor sanitary facilities with much of their activities in full public view. Everybody new your business and much of life was spent out of doors the "comforts" of home that we take for granted today were non-existent before the war. Television, three piece suites, modern electrical appliances were years away for many East End families.
The radio did however provide some contact with the outside world with favourite shows being the "Dick Barton" and "Woman's Hour" and later the GOONS, the Huggetts and Archie Andrews. The latter was a joke; here was a ventriloquist with his dummy performing on radio, later when he transferred to TV we could all see the vents mouth moving.
The winter of 1946/47 proved to be one of the worst in living memory with January temperatures falling to -27 degrees C with chaos on the roads and power cuts, adding to the misery was a strike of road haulage workers leaving families having to have meatless weekends and facing growing shortages of other food and coal. The weekly fresh meat ration was set at 1s 2d [15] with further cuts expected in the bacon, eggs and bread rations. The freezing conditions continued throughout February and this gave way to flooding during March with an estimated 2 million sheep being drowned and half a million acres of wheat being damaged.
The end of 1947 saw the weekly milk allowance cut to two and half-pints, bacon to a miserable one-ounce and three pounds of potatoes per week per person. This was extended when cheese was reduced to one and half ounces, motorist were rationed to 90 miles of travel per month and in the same year the NHS was became a reality on Thursday 5 July 1948.
8 Palm Street , with 6 year old me and the Victorian terrace housing in the background - circa 1951.
Palm Street comprised of a row of original Victorian terraced housing with prefabs having been built on the site of damaged or totally destroyed terraced housing that had been bombed during the war. At the bottom of the road was a high brick wall, which prevented access to the Regent's Canal and adjacent to this was the Palm Tree Public House . It was possible to identify the extent of the bomb damaged area and it is likely that the seat of the explosion was at the junction of Green Street , Totty and Lessada Street where we used to play in the bomb crater. Advertising billboards had surrounded the crater but these were no deterrent to us kids who wanted to play.
1894 Victorian map locating Palm Street . [16]
Close up of Palm Street , number 8 was located
by the corner of Totty Street above the letter "R" in Palm Street .
Very little can be remembered of the early years in the prefab with the birth of my sister and brother Irene and John [17] within three years of moving in, things would have got a bit crowded with us sharing the same bedroom.
Irene Raynham in front garden at 8 Palm Street
1948 aged about 1 year; view shows corner of Totty St and Palm St with Grove Road in background.
In 1946 saw the creation of the United Nations [18] , the start of the Cold War with Russia and the founding of the National Health Service, the following year India become independent and the coal industry is nationalised. The British mandate in Palestine ends and a Jewish state is proclaimed; Dad had been posted to this part of the world and was part of the army that attempted to keep the peace.
He had served in the 2nd Battalion Royal Ulster Rifles , having enlisted in 1942 when he was 19 years of age and was discharged to the Army Reserves in 1947.
The early fifties brought some relief from the food rationing that had been a way of life throughout the 1940s, Dad had gone back to work with the Co-Operative Wholesale Society [19] as a lorry driver following his demob from the army. He had been with them prior to WW2 and had been employed with the company since he left school back in 1937, when he was 14 years of age. I can recollect Mum going to early morning cleaning in the offices in the City of London , as money was extremely tight. She would get up the crack of dawn and "do" a few hours then rush back to get the breakfast for us.
Charles George Raynham (Dad) on "R&R" Belgium August 1945 in uniform, aged 23 year.
Annie Lilian Raynham nee Hackett (Mum) 1943 aged 21 years.
ID card , front & back. Inside page of card.
Life appeared to be regimented by the drudge of housework, Mondays was washday using the electric Burco water boiler and a manual wash mangle, Tuesdays ironing with dusting and polishing following on for the rest of the week. Shopping was always from the local corner shops, no supermarkets for us. Regular deliveries of coal from the coalman, hundred weight straight into the coalbunker, located in the garden.
We always seem to have food at the table, no ethnic in those days just the usual Sunday roast, Monday leftovers and sausages on Saturday.
In addition to the coalman other tradesmen included the milkman with his cart and horse and the occasional visits of rag and bone man, shouting "any old iron, any old iron" and the man flogging bottles of pop with a heavy china bottle stop.
The Labour Party wins the second General Election, after the war in 1950, the result was extremely close possibly reflecting the tough environment that prevailed after the war; as a thank you for being elected the Chancellor in his budget put another 9d on the price of petrol bringing the cost to three shillings or about ?2.20p a gallon today; a rise of 25%. A year later the public voted in Winston Churchill as Prime Minister with a narrow majority for his Conservative Party. The Korean War starts with British soldiers as part of the United Nations forces.
Salaries for new teachers were ?630 for men and ?504 for women about ?9400 and ?7500 today. One interesting statistic indicated that only 46% of the UK has a bathroom relying on a wash down in the kitchen sink or in front of the fire in a tin bath. How lucky we were in our prefab with its unheated bathroom, although at times Dad used to light a paraffin freestanding heater, which heated the bathroom.
The King died and his daughter Elizabeth was proclaimed Queen on the 8 February 1952. Although many of the news events of the time cannot be remembered I do recollect the Coronation and the street party in Palm Street along with of all things the Mau Mau terrorist campaign in Kenya in 1953.
Michael Raynham at Palm Street , aged 3 months 1953.
When I was 7 years of age brother Michael was born in the spring of 1953 [20] at our home in Palm Street . The accommodation situation had been relieved with the introduction of bunk beds; being the eldest I grabbed the top bunk. Winters in the prefab were noted for the coldness, the house had no central heating and the main source of heat was an open coal fire in the living room. Being a single storey building all the heat went up the short chimney, with very little being conveyed into the room.
The daily chore of collecting coal from the coal bunker and seeing Mum trying to light the fire using kindling wood and using a newspaper to draw air up the chimney is still fresh in my memory.
The combination of inefficient heating, poorly insulated asbestos board cladding, flat roof and single glazed windows led to many a cold night. However sleep was not a problem, even with four of us in the same room. As we got older a pecking order was established in which the youngest would go to bed first, with the others at different times. It was not unusual for us older one's to sit with the youngest to ensure that they went to sleep, so that we could stay up.
My first school was Olga Primary School just a few hundred yards from home, which I attended from September 1951 to July 1957. These were the days of the three "Rs" school reports show class sizes of over 40 [21] this was the era of the baby boom when babies born immediately after the war were now at school. Olga School was a Victorian red brick building typical of those built to meet the educational needs following the 1870 Victorian legislation [22] .
The first few days would have been a shock to the system, having lived and played close to home and then suddenly attending full time education. Later when Irene attended the same school she was so traumatised by the experience that I had to sit with her for the first half hour or so until she stopped crying; I cannot recollect how long this went on for.
Early memories are of a dark building with damp and musty spells with daily dollops of malt, some cod liver oil and the regulation one-third pint of milk. I also recollect orange juice concentrate; I suppose they thought we were all scurvy! By golly that lot certainly put hairs on your chest including the girls! Then the "nit"nurse, with her steel comb and disinfectant would appear to give us the once over, cannot remember if we ever had an attack of the nits; suspect we did not otherwise I would have remembered the treatment. It is possible that my short-cropped haircut helped prevent me from being a host for the nits.
Sitting in rows of lift up lid desks, with china inkpots with a ridge for our school ink pens to sit on. Everything was learnt by rote, "the cat sat on the mat" and the multiplication tables were a daily grind and never an explanation as to the reasons why you were learning it and for what use it would be for. All the pens, pencils and writing books had to be supplied by the school; the exception was the brown leather satchel that somehow Mum managed to get for me.
Of all the subjects taken it was physical training which still brings memories, no playing fields only the assembly hall and the classroom for changing out of day clothes into your shorts and plimsolls. The class master Mr Thompson always insisting that shirts must be removed first before shorts were put on, a bit "queer" even the girls were required to comply with this instruction; the reason never quite sure but think it had something to do with fire precautions! My own view, later in life was that he was a "perv".
No doubt we were generally well looked after, although clothing could be interesting with the flared collar on the shirts, hand made cardigans and woollen short trousers that made you itch, clothes were not a priority and "designer" gear was an unknown experience, this I suspect explains my attitude to clothes today and the corrosive and selfish pressure to conform in today's "must have" society.
Me at 10 years in 1955 note the "flared" shirt collar
& hand knitted pullover.
The four school reports that I have can be summed up, as being a boy whose conduct was excellent, very industrious, whose best subjects were history, geography and arithmetic. My English, reading and spelling was fair to bad, no surprises there.
Much of the problem of these early learning years was the continual problems of ill health due to un-diagnosed middle ear infections. [23] These were treated with hot bread poultice applied to the ear to bring some relief to the terrible pain that I endured, the pain would last for several hours and caused me miss school. Later the use of the newly discovered penicillin, delivered by injections in my bum helped to reduce the infections. It was only later when aged about 11 years in 1956 that an operation to remove my tonsils and adenoids led to a complete "cure". In 1955 attendance was monitored at 73% with over 44 days off due to illness, we all survived the polio outbreak of that year as well as the numerous childhood diseases.
I did however get mumps at around 10 years, little realising that this later in life would come back to haunt me. The free dental service was usually a visit to the Old Ford clinic with the smell of ether in dingy rooms, I had many a tooth removed or filled with mercury, with one memorable experience of thinking I was falling down a velvet lined tube. No gas for fillings this was reserved for extractions only, the visit to the dentist was always filled with dread.
School visits were rare, however there was the odd occasion when a school outing had been arranged either to the local park or the Bethnal Green Museum . There was one occasion when a few days were spent away from home and school at an outdoor centre in Hindhead, Surrey. Staying overnight in wooden dormitories the days were spent in the outdoors walking up and down the Devil's Punchbowl , a series of hills and valleys and part of the South Downs. This I assume was paid for by the local education authority and was intended to give deprived East End kids some relief from the dirt and smoke that was part of their everyday life.
Last Olga Primary School Report for July 1957.
This was before the era of the Clean Air Act and coal fires were the normal method of heating supplemented by the "oil heater". [24] This type of heater was used to take the cold edge off the bathroom and hallway. However as it had no means to expel the water vapour and exhaust fumes the house always smelt of paraffin and windows became wet with condensation. I have no doubt that this, along with our coal fire contributed to the London pea soupers with the smell of fog, which were yellow and phlegmy to look at accompanied by the absence of sound. Really, really weird!
I cannot recollect any occasion when I ever met a teacher outside of school although there were some lighter moments, a spelling contest had been organised between classes, the result rested on our team being able to spell the word "uniform", guess who got it right little old me. This was in front of the whole school, my first introduction to public speaking.
Attending school did not seem like a chore, however running home and to play in the streets and the garden was always liberating; running seemed a permanent feature of childhood until I discovered wheels. Space in the garden began to get crowded when Dad started to breed and keep chickens, chicks were kept in the airing cupboard before being sold and a few kept in the garden for egg laying, I cannot recollect chicken featuring a part of our regular diet, usually at Christmas but not during the year.
One year a chicken went berserk running around in much distress and finally laying down on the ground and for apparent no reason dying. It was a Sunday and when Dad came in he made the decision to incinerate the chicken as he could not identify the reason for its death, the smell of "barbecued" chicken that afternoon was overwhelming and we just had to look on mouths watering whilst we used sticks to prod the white cooked meat.
Later we discovered that Irene had thrown a small round ball into the chicken compound, the poor chicken had swallowed the ball and in retrospect the chicken had suffocated itself. So it had not died of some unknown disease and we could have eaten it that Sunday afternoon.
Much of my childhood was spent out of doors amusing oneself with very little play equipment. Certainly a few toys were available but you were left to your own devices it was only the extent of your imagination and those of your friends that prevented you from enjoying yourselves. Cricket with a home made bat and football in the middle of the road, hopscotch on the pavement, gobs [25] , conkers when in season and spinning tops on the newly laid tarmac streets.
Eventually bikes and skates were given as birthday but more usually as Christmas presents, our presents being placed on a chair in the living room and like countless other children getting up in the middle of night and having a quick look was part of the fun. We would get up "officially" about seven o'clock and open those presents that had been wrapped; within the hour all had been revealed. Christmas dinner was chicken, no turkey as no one could afford it, with some extra "goodies" like sweets and nuts; tangerines were always a treat as these were not available at other times of the year.
Having ones own transport opened up new horizons and allowed me to venture out of the confines of streets around Palm Street , even a visit to granddad at Little Ilford Lane was undertaken the route taking in Stratford Broadway, even then a notorious traffic hazard comprising of a large oblong shaped roundabout with Bow Church in the centre.
Some of the best times were when we built a hut in the garden, using corrugated iron and other material that could be collected and using old lights bulbs gave the impression of lighting. Then of course there was the regular pastime of making a pest of yourself with the neighbours. "Knock down ginger" always caused maximum chaos and danger, we would hold a length of string across the road and tie it to a door knocker and then well away from where you could be seen the string was pulled and the knocker would bang. After a few times of this the householder would go bananas and start shouting up the street.
Of course the more adventurous would actually knock on the door and do a runner, always making sure that some hiding place was close by. This had its risks as the householder may be close to the door at the time, thus you were in danger of being seen and reported to your Mum.
Venturing further a field to Victoria Park to play on the play park equipment and generally playing around the bombsites and the local Regent's Canal . Constructing wooden carts, made from packing cases and spare pram wheels provide our first transport and great fun was had belting down the bombsite crater.
Bullying was experienced both at school and in the streets this came to a head when the local bully was given a good kicking by a group of us. I remember holding his head between the road and the granite kerb and bringing my foot down on his head. Problem solved!
Money always being in short supply every opportunity was used to supplement pocket money, and Bonfire Night [26] was used to go collect money from passers by. The guy was made from old clothes stuffed with straw and used newspapers with face made from cardboard, shouts of "penny for the guy" usually brought its rewards. Money collected was used to buy fireworks or sweets, yes no trouble in buying single fireworks at any age in those days. We later started to make our own fireworks using a formula handed down from older kids, the "gunpowder" would be stuffed into cardboard tubes with a long fuse. Not recommended we nearly blew up a friends Dad's garden shed.
As for the bonfire this was usually in the back garden of our prefab but the bombsites would always have the largest, made up of collected scrap boxes, timber and anything else that would light, the style of the fire was a great big wigwam shape. Sometimes someone would set the oppositions fire alight when no one was around, great fun. The smell of cordite in the cold autumn air remains a powerful memory and the danger of picking up fireworks that had not gone off and throwing them onto the bonfire, where they would explode.
I recollect some very bad winters in the fifties when snow kept falling, this was always a good time for the children with snowball fights and with my brothers and sister building a snowman, which would still be around days after the rest of the snow had melted and gone.
Fights between local primary schools were rare but one winter did see a right punch up with snowballs providing excellent ammunition, these were made more effective when small round stones were rolled into the snowball. This allowed smaller snowballs to be made with greater accuracy and more speed through the air, god knows what damage they did when they hit a target.
Our neighbour at the bottom of the garden had a young son a few years older than me; he was the first person that I knew who had an air rifle, the type that fired lead pellets and small darts. He used to be good company allowing me and my friends to use the rifle to shoot at targets at the bottom of his garden. However one day he fired some pellets at us when we were playing football in our garden, he succeeded in hitting our rubber ball and the ball was deflated. He later had to do his National Service, no doubt swapping his air rifle for an army rifle.
Saturday mornings was cinema day and we always looked forward to going to the Odeon opposite Mile End Underground Station. Here would be the venue for cowboy films; Laurel and Hardy comedy shorts and cartoons were the order of the day. Always with friends we would walk the mile or so, not like today where parents are concerned about the dangers of child molesters; this subject was not known let alone spoken or written about. We were so innocent!
Doing errands was a regular feature running to get small items of provisions from local corner shops, this became more acceptable when at about the age of about 7 years I got my first bike, a small two wheeled one. On one Sunday morning in 1956 I was going to the corner shop down Medhurst Road , opposite Palm Street when the shopping bag, which was hanging down from the handlebars got caught in the front wheel. The front wheel immediately locked up and the next thing I was catapulted over the top and landed on my chin. The next few hours were spent in Bethnal Green Hospital having several stitches inserted in my chin. Not the best Sunday but at least I did not have to go to Sunday school that day.
Bethnal Green Hospital opened in 1900, photo taken around 1910.
This was not the first experience of local hospitals, apparently as a young baby when given an injection the needle broke in half. The part of the needle left in my upper left calf had to be surgically removed, even today the resulting large scar can be still be seen.
Sunday's were different, not only because it was a day of rest for Dad but visits to grandfather and grandmother's home in Little Ilford Lane, Manor Park would always mean the wearing of your Sunday best and exploring their rented Victorian house that they lived in.
Although not a religious family I cannot recollect ever attending church as a family, I was forced to go to church Sunday school for a number of years. It was possible that along with my sister and brother, John we were the last generation to attend church regularly. The afternoon attendance comprised of bible lessons and singing some hymns, the service lasted about an hour and was just about the most boring event of the week.
Later I attended the Boys Brigade, which had a more military bearing than the Boy Scouts and attracted boys between the age of seven and eleven, the majority of my memories are of playing games in the local Baptism hall and in the summer playing cricket and football over in Victoria Park. However I can vaguely remember some parades held on a Sunday over in Hackney.
Nan & Grandad Raynham . [27]
Christmas was a family affair with all night visits to Manor Park where Nan and Grandad lived the adults would have the singsongs in the front room. Dad would play the upright piano, which he had learnt to play as a youngster. This was the first time that I tasted "brown ale", the favourite alcoholic drink of granddad. Another treat was the annual CWS employees' children's Christmas party held at their head quarters in Lemon Street, Aldgate. The first I attended however was held at the Mile End Municipal Baths, Stepney held on Saturday 18 January 1946 when I was only three months old, I cannot remember that one.
CWS Children's Party Invitation 1946
This party was rather special and was flagged as the "1st Victory & New Year Party"; on offer were tea, games, dancing, cabaret, prizes and gifts. Although I cannot remember that one many of the others are still fresh in my mind, noted for the great sack of gifts and the showing of black and white comedy and cartoon films.
Summer beano's [28] from the local Palm Tree Public House usually involved regulars from the pub going to Ramsgate, Margate or Southend for the day by charabanc, drinking was the operative pastime whilst driving to and from the seaside and spending a few hours in a pub and having a meal. Its origins go back to the 18th century when an enlightened employer laid on a day trip for his employees to his country house where they were entertained. I myself went on a few trips when later working as an apprentice for Tate & Lyle Ltd .
Dad playing cards at the Palm Tree PH, around 1950.
After their return to the Palm Tree the men, well pissed by now would throw their spare change from the coach onto the road for us, the children to collect. Not the source of regular income this was achieved with some pocket money from Mum, some money from Mum's dad when he visited us. This was complimented by money from a morning and evening newspaper round that I carried out for a year or two when I was about 10 years.
The round was fairly small in area and was concentrated around Roman Road , a local main thoroughfare, it was a dangerous road being the route for London red buses and heavy goods lorries taken loads to the local market and shops. The road has two painful memories one was the accident involving a number 8 bus and a little girl on a bike. She had come out of a side street and cycled into the path of the bus suffering fatal injuries and although not a witness to the accident, I did see the tragic aftermath.
The second incident involved myself, I was on an errand to Roman Road and I parked my bike by the kerb and went into a local shop. On returning to the bike a lorry had reversed along the road and ran over the bike, for me it was a case of good and bad luck. Good luck that I was not sitting on the bike and bad luck that I now owned a bike with a large kink in its frame and front wheel. After enduring a trip around the East End whilst the driver completed his round, yes he did not take me home immediately I was delivered home shocked and pretty cut up.
Dad went berserk and a row broke out between him and the driver, in the end I got a new bike-a right good result.
Roman Road , eastern end although photo taken around 1900
the scene had not changed.
Other schemes to earn some money included making plaster casts of footballers and painting them in team local colours, these were sold to kids who lived in the area. One of the best-paid scheme/scam was the collection of waste paper and then selling it to the rag and bone shop. With my friends we would get about 2d a pound weight, this was beefed up when we slipped a few sheets of lead in between the sheets of paper.
However things got out of hand when on one trip the shop had closed, there we were with a pram full of paper (with or without lead) and nowhere to sell it. Solution drop the lot from the bridge which spanned the canal along Green Street , unfortunately the anglers below did not appreciate a load of paper being dumped on them and their rods. Still we still got a good deal by sifting out the comics, I remember the Beezer, Beano and Dandy and these were sold and the paper leftover saved until bonfire night.
Trips with Dad in his CWS lorry were a great day out, his usual journey was from the CWS transport garage in Kit Cat Terrace, Bow to Portsmouth in Hampshire. Regular stops along the way for breakfast and tea at the transport cafes usually ended up with other drivers giving me their loose change, in theory the journey was scheduled to take two days. One day to get there and off load and the next day to get back, however as this would entail a stopover the usual trick was to do the job in one day and get home.
This was known as a "dodgy night out" because clearly the company would not expect the driver back before late afternoon the second day. The driver however not only got some time off; he was paid for his night in "digs". The only downside for the driver was finding a secure place to park up for the night, theft of the vehicle or from it would be difficult to cover up and explain.
It was whilst having to deal with fellow driver problems, that Dad became interested in trade unionism. He was intelligent, having successfully passed the entrance exams for a scholarship to attend a grammar school back in the 1930s. However due to an indifferent father, my grandfather from Manor Park apparently preferred to spend his money on booze rather than his family. With no money to pay for a uniform Dad had to leave school instead, possibly one of the reasons why he resented his father for the best part of his life.
The Transport and General Workers Union was extremely strong in the East End having members in the docks and transport industries, Dad became secretary to his local branch which represented the CWS drivers in East London at Kit Cat, Bow Common Lane and Hackney Wick garages. In return for ensuring that his member's interests were looked after he was allowed commission of 10% on the collected weekly subscriptions.
This has been estimated to be worth about ?3. 2s a week or about ?41 today. Such was the level of this untaxed income that it was not unusual for Dad not to have to open his own CWS wage packet, the wage for a driver in those days was about ?5 per week. Times indeed were getting better in the mid to late fifties, holidays at Warner's Holiday Camps at Corton in Suffolk and Seaton in Devon were a vast improvement on the odd week in a caravan in a farmer's field or a weekend in a windswept caravan site at Mill Beach near Maldon in Essex .
At these camps Dad encouraged us to enter all the children's sports events and it was not unusual for John, Irene and I to win many of them, particularly the short running events. The early morning Tannoy announcements were a constant irritation, with the daily events being shouted out and the immortal words "good morning campers" dear old Billy Butlin had a lot to answer for.
Early family transport was a pre-war car borrowed from Dad's friend, the Flying Standard circa 1937 with its wonderful leather inside was a classic. Many a journey required the constitution of a horse, what with Dad's cigarette smoking [29] the petrol fumes and the need to push the car up hills early motoring was not always a pleasure. One holiday journey involved having to push start a car around a field, with cowpats to be avoided and brother John being sick will always stick with me. The accommodation usually comprised of a rented/borrowed caravan.
Family holiday at Manston, Kent in a borrowed Rover car July 1954.
Many a journey took hours with the stop for a cuppa tea by the roadside, or for one us to throw up or have a pee or otherwise to allow the car to cool down having overheated the engine. I clearly remember one journey back from the east coast, probable Clacton in Essex when Dad continued to drive even though the engine was overheated. By the time we got home the cylinder head on the top of engine was "glowing", I did know that the engine would never start after that little excursion.
Today you travel up the Maldon hill with no trouble, usually in fourth gear however those pre-war cars could barely do it in first and no one attempted to use the hand brake when in the inevitable traffic jam.
Our first car BLP 315, at Leysdown, Kent 1955.
Things got a bit better, although not a lot when Dad bought his own car, however one of these was a Ford Fordson van, I think a late 1940s model, and this was second hand and had a wooden floor in the load area. We the kids, all four us would sit on a bench seat that had been bolted into the loading area and for a novelty the floor of the van used to come away from the chassis of the van. Dad would use a screw jack and a piece of timber wedged between the roof and floor to keep us from falling into the road.
Throughout the 1950s many of the holidays comprised of caravan stays at Kent resorts of Leysdown, Ramsgate and Margate with the occasional trips to Corton, Suffolk and a holiday bungalow at Jaywick Sands on the Essex coast.
Sunday trips to the new London overspill housing estate at Harold Hill in Essex, about 20 miles east of London were remembered with fondness. Mum's cousin Doris Emeny had moved there with husband John and their young children, John and Patty from the slums of Wapping; visits were frequent and both families were very close.
Neighbours in Palm Street tended to be those young families who had moved into the prefabs and the older ones who were renting the Victorian terraced houses opposite where we lived. Our immediate neighbours were the McNally family , the old man worked in the docks and then later when he was made redundant he became a taxi driver. They had three sons and were always fighting and the eldest son Brian became a well-known restaurateur in New York. [30]
Dad had a fellow CWS driver who lived opposite us in one of the Victorian houses with his family, Johnny Lee was a right character a heavy drinker who at times got on Mum and Dad's nerves. Our Irene became firm friends with their daughter, who later went on to play some British television comedy roles in the 70s. [31]
Television was not on the agenda until around 1953, recollect watching the Queen's Coronation on our 12" black and white Murphy and the introduction of independent television in 1955 is remembered more for the adverts, OMO washing powder just as an example. Dad had a flair for repairing those early televisions and radios, how and where he learnt this skill is not known. Much of it was by trial and error with vast collection of valves that he would interchange with those inside a set he was repairing. Many a time he had me helping him, always emphasising the need not to touch the area around the cathode tube connection; this he said was the high voltage end of the business and could easily kill you.
The introduction of commercial television in 1955 can be remembered with the brown metal box sitting on the top of the black and white television, known the "converter" this allowed us to receive the service. I can clearly recollect the first ad for SR toothpaste under the Associated Rediffusion banner.
In DIY areas Dad was pretty useless, many a car repair leading to tears with unreliability through breakdowns. It always seemed that the cars needed a "decoke" and the kids were forever giving them a push start. As for the prefab it was impossible to hang anything from the walls, one shelf I clearly recollect fell down, this would not have been too bad but it was over my bed.
Dad with his lorry driver connections occasionally arrived home with something whose origins were not entirely known, I clearly remember the occasion when we helped to unload a load of pickle onions contained in glass jars. Unfortunately for all us when the jars were opened the onions were clearly beyond their use by date and were a horrible brown colour and rotten, we had to bury them in the back garden of the pre-fab and for weeks all you could smell from the garden was pickled onions.
In those days much of the food we eat was typical for East End, with shepherds and meat pies, sausages and potatoes very much on the menu. Occasional treats would include pie and mash, washed down with parsley sauce at the local eel and pie shop, either Cookes or Kellys in the Green Street and Roman Road .
Dad would take us to Brick Lane Sunday Market, not far from the famous Petticoat Lane market. Here he would "mooch" around the stalls looking for bargains, although I can never remember Dad buying anything.
Typical "Tubbies" jellied eel stall, located around local markets & pubs throughout the East End.
He would buy us a bowl of jellied eels, 2s 0d for five small pieces from the Tubby Isaacs stall and some sarsaparilla drink, today eels are sold in many supermarkets around here but the best can only be brought at Tubbies in the East End, by the Aldgate underground station.
I look back on these early childhood days and have to wonder how I survived, if the childhood diseases did not get you the chances of an accident were high. No cycle training, no safety awareness, playground equipment that was poorly maintained and unsupervised, and this does not take into account the home where on one occasion I put my fingers into the top of a electric table lamp. As the lamp was still plugged in and had no on/off switch I was nearly electrocuted, I was thrown about six feet across the living room, until now no one was aware of this incident.
Life must have been getting better, why because the Conservative Prime Minister said so, in a speech in July 1957 Harold Macmillan famously said that "most of our people have never had it so good" I think he was referring to the fact that there was no longer any rationing and for those that could afford it there were plenty of goods in the shops.
After sitting the 11 plus examinations, which comprised off a maths, English and IQ tests I went to St Paul's Way Secondary School in September 1957. My memories of this potentially life changing exam are still very vivid, the arithmetic test was a disaster with very few of the questions being answered and the English test with my inability to understand punctuation. However all seemed not lost because I scored high results in the IQ test allowed me to be trawled around various grammar schools [32] in the vain hope of being given a "Governors Place".
Olga Primary School, last year photo 1957,
me on floor second from left.
These were places that could be given to a few children who for whatever reasons were deemed worthy of consideration for a grammar school placing. I was asked a number of question, including my father's occupation and I clearly remember at one interview the question as to how a car engine started. My reply was simple; Dad's puts a key in the dashboard and presses a black button, needless to say I did not get a place. I attended St Paul's Way for two years; this required a trolleybus journey of two miles or so from the top of our street to St Paul's Way.
Typical trolleybus, receiving electric power from overhead lines,
Diesel double decker buses replaced these in 1960.
I achieved an appalling report in the first year with the exception of grammar and woodwork, however the second year must go down in history as the greatest recovery having gone from being nearly last in the first year I went to the top of class in the second. Almost without exception in every subject I came first even the old age problems of English and mathematics registered dramatic improvements. On reflection it would seem that the earlier problems of illness had been overcome but I believe that the overall standard at the school was poor with a catchment for its pupils even worse than that for Olga Primary School .
At sometime during the late 1950s a decision was taken to relocate from Palm Street , as Mum and Dad were in local authority housing. Known as a council house this could only be achieved by an exchange or a transfer to another council house elsewhere. This move would have been carefully considered given that I was now attending St Paul's Way Secondary School, Irene was at Coburn Grammar School for Girls at Bow and John would be sitting his 11 plus examination shortly.
When Mum was 36 years of age she gave birth to Julie [33] in the summer of 1959 at the Mile End Hospital, Stepney, London E1 this may have been the final trigger in deciding to move. Clearly a family of seven could not continue to live in the two bed-roomed prefab, this may have been the East End Victorian norm, but even by 1959 things had moved on a bit.
Julie Raynham 1966 aged 6 years.
The move to 14 Sheppey Road, Dagenham, Essex occurred in the winter of 1959, possibly in October. This brick built three bed roomed 1930s mid-terraced house was typical of thousands built as a result of the need to re-house the overpopulated areas of East London. Additionally there was the need service the newly constructed Ford Motor Company plant built on Essex marshlands overlooking the River Thames.
The house was about 10 miles due east from our old prefab and clearly required Dad to travel further each day to work and for Irene the daily grind of "commuting" to Coburn on the London Underground District Line [34] would have been a chore for her. John was okay as he later passed his 11 plus and went to Dagenham County High School , this was the same school that the well-known actor, musician and comedian Dudley Moore went to.
Although clearly a more acceptable level of accommodation for us, the house at Dagenham suffered from the lack of central heating, had a downstairs toilet and a small kitchen lacking basic facilities. It could only be accessed via the front door with no direct entry to the rear garden, this gave poor Mum a problem of having to keep opening the front door to let us kids in.
It was also quite an experience when within minutes of taking occupation we felt that rumble of the steam trains on their journey from Southend to Fenchurch Street. Our house indeed the whole of the north side of Sheppey Road bounded the main railway line, which connects Southend to London, at the bottom of our gardens. It was therefore remarkable that within a short period of time we quickly acclimatised to the rumbles that did indeed shake the house. It was a testament to the construction of these houses that even today they still stand with no visible damage.
The move to Dagenham has to be seen as a significant milestone in my future development, not only achieving a better quality of life for all the family but opening up the opportunities afforded to me of a higher level of education than that offered at St Paul's Way. Bifrons County Secondary School was just a mile or so from our house, a short walk along the Sheppey Road over the railway bridge and down Rugby Road to Bromhill Road.
My first day at the school was the 19 October 1959, just three days before my fourteenth birthday. The first year was hard, adapting to a new regime, different teaching methods and better facilities. As the kid from East End I was regarded with suspicion, with reputations going ahead of you and the shock of homework took some getting used to.
Sheppey Road, Dagenham located south of Becontree railway station,
note the extensive parkland around.
At the end of my first year at the school I failed in many subjects including my old chestnuts in English and mathematics; it seemed that the good work in the previous year had been undone. The final results placed me 24 in the class of 42 but on a positive note my good results in the handcraft, geography and history continued.
The next two years saw progress at the school in the subjects of woodwork and metalwork; external Royal Society of Arts examinations were taken in July 1961 in passes achieved in English, Science and Technical Drawing. It was clear that a career in an office environment was not for me and my earliest ambition I think was to be dustbin man. They seem to only work on only one day a week and were surrounded by rubbish, sounded a bit like my childhood play in Bow.
Whilst full time employment was still three years away when we moved to Dagenham I did deliver early morning newspapers for a local newsagent. This lasted a short while until the owner, who enjoyed late night card schools made me in charge of the getting all the other newsboys out on time. This involved getting to the shop at 5.30 am to organise each round, sometimes the previous nights card schools was still in action above the shop and the owner would throw the shops front door keys down for me to open the establishment.
This seven days a week early morning part time job lasted until one of the card schools gamblers, another local businessman asked me to work for him. He owned a variety of shops including an off licence and a hardware shop both traded under the businessman's surname of Everett. My job involved working evenings in the Rugby Road off licence and some Saturdays. In those days licensing laws only allowed limited opening times and thus business was always very busy with cigarettes and beer being the biggest sellers.
I soon learned some dodgy tricks including the opening of beer bottles consuming a small quantity of the liquid and resetting the beer cap. This was passed back to the brewery as a defective bottle, known as "ullages" in the trade [35] and the quantity over a period of months would certainly add up. In addition to this criminal consumption of alcohol we would also have the occasional drink "on the house" curtesy of the owners two sons who were a few years older than me.
The years spent with the Everetts were great, in addition to the off licence trade I was asked to help out on a Saturday at the hardware shop which was in the Essex town of South Ockendon, about 10 miles from Dagenham along the A13 towards Southend. The manager of the shop who lived in Dagenham drove me there, he drove one of the newly produced Morris Mini's. [36] The work comprised of serving customers and helping to trim wallpaper, the pre-trimmed pre-pasted vinyl wallpapers were many years away.
On occasions, usually over Christmas and the odd Bank Holiday I was asked to act a barman at the Everetts private parties, these went on long into the early hours and very few of those in attendance were sober at the end of the evening.
It was in this environment that I was introduced to alcohol, initially with the bottled Flowers Brewmaster a very potent pale ale. At the same time the youngest Everett son Jim took me with him to collect some goods from a cash and carry and as it was lunchtime he took me to my first Chinese restaurant in East Ham. The meal was chicken curry with chow mien noodles, this was my first taste of curry and I had never eaten noodles either of the Italian or Chinese origin.
This was the start of a lifetime enjoyment of ethnic food something that I was unable to convince Dad to try, strictly a meat and two veg person. Mum however did try some Indian and Chinese food later and thoroughly enjoyed the experience and still does today.
Life was indeed very good, earning good money about ?7.00 a week, or about ?80.00 today and plenty of free beer and the likely hood of being offered a job by old man Everett once I had completed my secondary education.
Dad was not happy with me doing work for Everett, the amount of time I spent at the "offie" he felt would be detrimental to my studies and the environment with cigarettes and alcohol freely available may start me on a life of "addiction". His views would have been influenced by his own childhood and his dealings with his father plus the fact he was almost tea total.
I did convince him that it was good experience and the money was useful deep down as a long-term socialist I suspect he did not like me working for the "capitalist" businessman.
Life went on, albeit very busy and juggling school commitments, going out with friends and work during the two years or so that I worked for Everett. The opportunity to work for him did not materialise as Dad was insistent that a trade should be followed "they always want tradesman" he would say and after sitting my General Certificate of Education "O" levels and obtained passes in woodwork and metalwork in July 1962, I wrote to many engineering companies seeking the opportunity to be employed as a engineering apprentice. After sitting many tests and attending interviews I received offers of employment from Ford Motor Company , London Electricity Board and Tate & Lyle Ltd .
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