About Me
The Early Years
I was born in the very late 1950s (there was slightly more than 3 months left in the whole decade), to my Mum and Dad - Anne and Keith. Keith did have a change of nickname though - from early on he was referred to as Pop. I was the middle child, having an older brother Geoffrey, and a younger sister Fiona. My early life was spent in home of my paternal grandparents, although my grandfather passed away when I was very small. I do not remember him - although he was to have an effect on my life - although a bit later.
We lived in Argyle Road, Ilford - our family having the downstairs part, with my Grandmother Violet having the upstairs. We also lived close to my maternal grandparents, Nancy and Bill (ooh sounds almost Oliver Twisty…..) who lived in Barking - very close to Barking Park. My earliest memory of them is going to the bottom of their garden where there was a small stream where we caught sticklebacks by the 100s! Granddad Bill also had a major effect on me - he gave me the manners that I am still proud of.
He was also in the Army during the Second World War based in the European section. He did not talk much about his time during the war - but often talked about his time in the army in the 1920s. He did open up once to me about the war - when I was writing a report for school. He was lucky in that pre-war he had been based in China, travelling large parts of the world while his wife stayed in London. What I should say is that she was not from London, her family was from Scotland, so it must have been hard for her. He was a tank driver - beginning his career on the old Mark V tanks that were used in WW1. He left the army, and joined a major metal company, until the outbreak of WW2 when he joined up again, spending some time in the 7th Armoured Brigade (known as the Desert Rats), until the tank he was driving (the lovely old Matilda…) was hit, and his hearing was very badly affected. So much so he could longer be in the front line, but remained in the army - driving tanks in the background. When he left the Army - he went into the post office (to work - as to just go into the post office is a fairly normal day to day thing to do).
They lived in a pre-fabricated house (these were temporary residences built in the late 40's which were still in use in the late 60s!) as mentioned close to Barking Park, where we often went out on the lake. When the time came they had to move to Claybury Broadway some 10 miles away. We still saw quite a lot of them - in fact my Nanny used to take us to Walthamstow market at least once a month - a great trip on the bus! I at that point did not realise just how much of an impact on my life that Walthamstow would cause, not for about another 20 years.
Nancy used to look after us while mum was at work as a legal secretary - Dad originally worked for a major Oxford Street retailer. I remember one Christmas while dad still worked there going up to London with him to see a Dr Who exhibition at his place of work. I used to be enamoured by the programme - although like most of my peers absolutely terrified by the Daleks!
Another funny quip in the late 60's the company dad has worked for expanded a touch and a branch was opened in Ilford High Road. One particular day my bigger brother who was maybe 8 at the time, and I (being 5) went to have a look in the shop (it was only about a 10 minute walk - and in those days no-one worried about two little boys going out on their own). We looked around for maybe an hour - at which point my bladder was ever so slightly bursting. When I told him I was desperate he ignored me. I did not know to ask any one else where the toilet was - and low and behold after a further 10 minutes I wet myself. There I was standing with my trousers soaked, in a puddle of pee, when a security guard came over and threw a fit. Chucked us out of the shop - and to make matters worse Geoff blamed me for getting us kicked out!
On my fifth Birthday Mum and Dad took us three kids out - to buy a dog - and we got Pippa, a Shetland sheepdog, who became a major part of our lives. She was a great friend to us all - and exceptionally good at ensuring we were in bed on time. Once she was no longer a puppy, she would often be the one to put us to bed, either mum or dad would say its x's bedtime, and she would come up to x and give them a nudge. If we didn't move, she would begin to hurry us - even going so far as to nipping our ankles to ensure that we moved!
For my sixth birthday I was bought a bike, and for a couple of weeks rode it with stabilisers. Dad told me that it was time I should be riding the bike properly, and took me out onto the pavement in Argyle Road minus the stabilisers. I was ok to begin with, peddling like crazy with dad holding the back of the bike. Then he decided to let go - but at the same time give me a little push. Unfortunately I was not expecting the push - and lost control of the handle bars - smashing the bike into a fence - and then launched over the handle bars so that my head also went into the fence…… When I stopped crying - I lost my temper (a family trait….) and picked up the bike only to throw it down, and storm off leaving dad looking a touch confused. When he returned home (I had run off to find my mum - who I knew would look after me) bike in hand I told the family in no uncertain terms that I would never ever ride a bike again - so they may as well throw it away.
Dad thought that at some point in the near future that I would change my mind - but the bike remained in the shed until I was about 8! Then on a warm summer day we emptied the shed out - and my bike was revealed - a little bit rusty, and needing a touch of oil - but otherwise fairly unscathed. I was left to my own devices for a while, only for my family to return to find me riding around the garden very confidently! It's funny that at 5 the form of transport that would be the main one that I used for the majority of my life - was announced as a complete waste of time, and something that I would never do and by the time I was 8 the complete opposite!
1966 saw us with our first television. Mum had been in hospital and had been watching the football World Cup group games that the BBC were showing. When she came home Dad arranged to rent a television, so that she could continue to watch, which meant so did we! So yes, we were watching as Bobby Moore lifted the cup and I can say that everywhere we went after that for a month or so - everyone was celebrating. It was fantastic being English! School stuff will be dealt with in the next piece - so this might seem a little jumpy now.
The whole family were heavily involved with the local scout troop the First Ilford, and I joined the cubs for my eighth birthday. I really enjoyed cubs - having some great people around me as leaders - who were close family friends - like Arkela (Betty Tiedeman), and Bagheera who's name has left me. I loved going to cub camp - we had some great times - one major memory being the weekend at Buckmore Park - where it must have been 10 degrees below freezing - so we were in large cabins as opposed to being under canvass. There was a go-cart place on the site - and we all went over one morning and tried our hands at driving. There was a small hill in the track area - and whilst taking a tight turn I slipped and put full weight on the accelerator pedal. I shot straight at the hill - hitting the top at a very high speed and the go-cart took off! It landed quite a distance away - but the axel was broken! I was fairly well banged up too - and took no further part as I was pretty dazed.
After cubs I went up to the scouts and while my brother went off to the world jamboree in Japan - I went with the rest of the troop to Nymegan in Holland, just outside of Arnhem. I had a great time there to begin with, although after a few days I was bullied by one of the scout leaders really badly. During a trip to a local town we went into a joke shop - and I got some sneezing powder, and a few other such jokes. His youngest son on the journey back in the coach got into my bag and proceeded to sniff down half the content of the sneezing powder, with very dramatic results. He was violently sick - and at one point I honestly thought that we would have to divert to a local hospital. The leaders dealt with it well - calming him down and washing his eyes and mouth and nose out with water. When he calmed down the little sh1t told his father that I had forced him down and squirted it all in (not the case at all - which was backed up by other cubs but totally ignored). We arrived back at the campsite - and everyone else was sent off with tasks apart from me. Once no-one was around he jumped on me - inserting the sneezing powder bottle up my nose - and draining the full amount left into my nose. When I began to sneeze and my eyes watered he gave me some fluid to wash it out with. Only it wasn't cold water - it was vinegar! I was violently sick, same as his son had been - only I was forced down so that my nose was in the sick. Over the next ten minutes he forced me to eat the sick - and then the dirt around it. I was told that under no circumstances was I to say anything to anyone about this. Once he was happy I was thrown bodily into the swimming pool to clean myself off - and he walked away. I could not swim, but somehow managed to get myself to the edge.
Over the next week my life was hell - I was pushed from the zip-wire that we put out - falling about 10 feet or so to the ground - bruising my arm quite badly, but the bullying remained. Once we got home I told my parents that under no circumstances would I ever go back to scouts. A couple of years ago I had heard he had died. I have said that I bare no grudges and did feel sorry for his family - but I shed no tears at that point for him.
During my early years Gran bought a Caravan in Walton on the Naze on the coast in Essex. The caravan had been owned by her aunt previously, and had been borrowed over a lot of years by Gran and Pops (the nickname of her husband - my grandad) nearly every year since the late 40's.
In those days it took us about 2 hours on the train - or about 4 hours by car. In the very beginning we used to travel down to the caravan in dad's old Austin Cambridge which was just like a tank - with mum, dad and Gran in the front seats - with the three kids and the dog in the boot….. And if that seems like a tight squeeze (and a health and safety issue nowadays!!!!!) the Caravan was not that much bigger 😂. For the main school holidays (Easter and Summer) we would all drive down - but Mum and Dad would return after a weekend - and we would stay with Gran until they returned at the end of the holiday and we all drove back. Summers were always great there - I do not remember many rainy days - the sun always seemed to be shining. (I know - romanticised memories….)
Every night we were there - we would go to the pier and play in the arcade, while Gran played bingo. Sometimes we were even allowed to join her - although she seemed to win more when we were not there. About once a week, Gran would pay for us all to go on the little train which ran down the length of pier. We would go to the end - and look at the lifeboat that was moored there - and watch the fishermen, and then after maybe an hour of enjoying the sights, go back on the train. Sounds silly now - but that was a real treat - and probably where I got my love for just sitting quietly contemplating absolutely nothing, every so often.
We had remained in Argyle Road, living with my Gran until the late 60's when we moved to a great house in Clarence Avenue in Gants Hill. Geoff and I still had a bedroom together, but Fiona got her own room. The main thing I remember about this house was the garden. It was enornmous - almost 200 yards long! The top half of the garden was all lawn - but the bottom half was all in small beds - not flower beds but vegetables, with some fruit trees in between. During the first year we became very self sufficent and there is nothing so sweet as eating food that you have grown yourself. Salads were the mainstay but we also grew peas and a few other ground vegetables too - although Dad refused to do potatoes.
We stayed there for a few years before moving to Canterbuy Avenue which was in Redbridge - to a bigger house but no big garden - with each of the kids getting a bedroom of their own. Mum and Dad stayed there until 2004 when Mum passed away - and Dad found it difficult to remain there. We only moved as a local development company decided to "upgrade" the whole area of Clarence Avenue (because of the big gardens) - and after a long period of Dad holding out selling to them, he finally got the figure he wanted for the house, which meant we could move to the "cathedral" area of Redbridge, which was looked upon as being more posh!
There was one major incident in the mid-70s which effected me greatly which was the death of my Granddad Bill. He had not been well for a while - having about 5 heart attacks in the space of a couple of years, but we were used to him getting over the attack and going home to Nancy. Only that was to come to an end.
I remember being taken to the hospital to see him, and on this occasion he looked seriously ill. He was very grey in pallor - with a greenish tinge… There was only two people allowed bedside - so when Mum and I went in to see him it was just us. Mum was very upset (not surprising really), but I was trying to be a "man" and hiding my emotions. As I sit holding Granddad's hand with him drifting in and out - Nancy comes back beside the bed - and the beeps from the heart monitor speeds up, as Granddad realises she is there. Shows me how much he loves her. I become very emotional, so mum takes me out of the ward - and we sit and hug each other. I might be just a teenager but it has really got to me. That evening Granddad slipped away - leaving us all empty - especially Nancy. I promised him, in my prayer that night, that I would continue with his ideals on good manners, and honesty, which I am proud to continue with to this day. He was a wonderful man - a charming gentle giant who although he refused to ever go to church (I dont know the reasons behind this) was probably the most Christian person I ever came across. Even now whenever I have a difficult decision to make I think to myself what would Bill have done?
Further reading
- Early years
- Schooldays
- Late 70's after school
- Early 80's
- mid-late 80's
- 90's
- 00's
- Since 2010
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