Myself on a film set when I was sixteen
I
well remember my first day at Wanstead
County High
School Wanstead Park
I was not too nervous when I left home with
my elder brother, Ken. He would have
been at least four years at the school
and would ensure I got there and help me settle into the routine. We
caught the red double-decker bus (No. 101A I believe) at the high street end of
our road. It went all the way to Wanstead but we got off at Oerton Drive
On the stage were sitting a formidable array
of teachers in academic gowns and the Headmaster, A F Joseph MA.
He
gave us new boys and girls a warm welcome, before we had a roll call to group
us in two mixed forms, each about thirty pupils strong. Then we were led
off to our own regular classroom to meet
our form teacher.
My first form teacher was a pleasant lady but
I regret I cannot remember her name. We were a mixed bunch of boys and girls. We were each allocated individual desks. Each desk had a
fitted inkwell and then a slightly
sloping hinged top which opened up so we could store our pencils, pens, rulers,
rubbers, etc and also exercise and text books. We were given timetables of
classes in our own form room or
elsewhere if need be, e.g. the weekly PE class in the gym. We were also grouped
in ‘Houses’ right across the school range, four for boys and four for girls. We
had no choice. I was made a Viking - the
other possibilities were Romans, Celts or Saxons. The girls’ Houses were named
after trees, Beeches, Limes, Oaks and Willows.
We had another roll call by our form teacher so that she would get to
know us and where each pupil sat. All boys were known just by their surname,
whereas the girls were allowed a first name and then their surname. Because of
this we boys generally used surnames in chats among ourselves, but could refer
to girls by their Christian names.
On that first day, I was relieved to find
that I could cope reasonably well with the classroom work and found it interesting. I was pleasantly surprised about
eleven o’clock to find that we
had a mid-morning play break of
about twenty minutes. WHS claimed to be a pioneer mixed secondary school, but
the boys’ and girls’ playgrounds were strictly segregated. This meant that we
had very little opportunity to talk to the girls as chatting in class was
forbidden.
It was enjoyable getting to know one another
in the boys’ playground and observe what
the older boys were doing. Some produced
tennis balls for impromptu football. There were also varied games of tag or
‘It’.
The most spectacular game of all was ‘Horses and Riders’. Two teams of about nine to twelve boys each were
selected by captains. They tossed to see who would be the first team to be ‘Riders’.
The losers had to form a long line of ‘Horses’. The boys had to bend down so
that their hands could grip the ankles or calves of the boy in front of them – and also jam their heads under the legs of that boy.
The foremost loser boy would stand
facing the line of ‘Horses’, with legs
apart and back against a wall to withstand the pressure from the line of boys facing him. Then the first ‘Rider’ would take
a run and make a mighty leap to land as far forward as possible onto the back
of a boy-horse. The others followed one at a time, sometime landing on top of
another boy-rider. The aim was to apply pressure on the line of boy-horses
until it crumbled or gave way giving victory to the ‘Riders’. However, if any
of the ‘Riders’ fell off, the ‘Horses’ won and rapidly demanded their turn to
be Riders. It was a very rough and tumble game, as I found out when I tried it
at a later date. I am not aware of any serious injury resulting during my time
at the School, but I doubt whether the game would pass today’s safety
regulations.
After break-time we had another class period
before lunch-time. Most of us had pre-paid school ‘dinners’. We went to the
dining hall in a separate building to sit at tables holding about 12-14 pupils
(all boys) with a prefect or monitor in charge at one end. I don’t remember any ‘lining up’. The food
was brought in on trolleys. At the far end there was a High Table for the
teachers. One of these would give the customary Grace of thanks for what we
were about to receive. Then we could start eating. Also when we had enjoyed our
second course or ‘pudding’, we had to wait for a second Grace - ‘for what we had received’, before we
could dash off and enjoy the playground once more. It all sounds rather formal
but quite jolly in fact. There was some
naughty by-play – practical tricks on the monitor in charge (normally dealt
with swiftly) and lots of lively discussions. A few weeks later, immediately
after the second ‘Grace’, I and two or
three friends used to dash madly from the dining hall to the Fives Court
After the final afternoon class it was time to go home
(around 4 p.m. I believe). I had
told brother Ken that I was quite safe
to travel back alone. This suited him as he usually travelled home with his
mates. So I packed up my satchel with
one or two books for the required home-work and set off. Half-way down Overton Drive
I was very confident walking down with Ken
to catch the bus the next day. “No problems,” I told him. “I can travel on my
own now.” So Ken decided to travel on the upper deck with his mates, while I
stopped below to ensure easy departure at the Overton Drive Overton Drive
I left the bus accordingly at the final
Wanstead stop. As I looked around for clues of where to go, I saw someone
running up from where we had come. It was faithful brother Ken ! He was panting
heavily and red-faced. He had run following the bus all the way from the Overton Drive
From then on school life continued at an
even pace with no significant problems. I began to make some special friends
from the boys in my form. However none
of these lived near me, so free time in the evening was mostly spent on
homework and piano practice. The latter
was specially important to me as I was looking forward to some top class
tuition at the Metropolitan Academy of Music at their Forest Gate Branch,
Earlham Hall. As mentioned in my ‘Very earliest memories’, my mother had
arranged for me to start lessons with Miss Doris Hill.
On 2nd of December 1932 I went with
my mother for my first lesson at Earlham Hall . I was carrying some recent
pieces, scale books etc., in my Mum’s old music case. It was a reasonably mild
December evening, but a little foggy as we walked through the imposing front
doors of the Hall. A receptionist took our details and showed us the way to
Miss Hill’s studio. We walked down a corridor through to the back of the
building and down some steps into the garden. There through the foggy mist we
could just see the outlines of what
appeared to be two lines of wooden beach huts! As we made our way along the
central pathway, we heard a wild cacophony of piano, violin, cello and singing,
as if in a discordant welcome to our appearance. Our guide gently tapped on the
door of one of the huts (I cannot recall the number). Faint piano music within
stopped. Within a minute or so the door opened and a young girl came out
followed by Miss Hill herself, who invited us in and greeted us warmly.
I remembered her face which I thought had a
kind of classic beauty approaching that of my Mum. Her face also appeared
natural with a slight sun-tan but no ugly red lipstick. She was wearing a
business-like grey tweed suit.
She apologised to my Mum for the unusual
studio . She said that after Christmas she hoped to rent a better studio over a
music shop. The hut was actually quite cosy and warm. Miss Hill said that
generally she preferred to teach the older pupils such as me (almost twelve) on
their own, but Mum could stop if she wanted. I felt sure my Mum would have
liked to stop, as she had studied piano herself at the elite Guildhall School
of Music. Mum, putting my needs first, took the hint and left to await my
return to the Hall.
At last I was sitting on the piano stool
while my teacher carefully adjusted the height so that my hands were at the
right level just above the keys. Then she asked me to play a piece of my own choosing. I cannot
remember what I played, nor Miss Hill’s
exact comments. It was something like, “Good. You have improved since I last
heard you play at the competition I
judged. But we must work on your touch so that your fingers are more relaxed as
they play each note.”
Then she took hold of my right elbow with
her left hand and my right wrist with her
right hand. She gently tried moving my right hand back and forth above
the keys. I naturally resisted this movement, but she explained that I must try
and relax my elbow joint. We did this for a few times until I managed to relax
sufficiently to allow her free control. Then I was asked to play a scale or a
line of music while keeping my elbow and fore-arm in this relaxed state.
“Well done,” she said. “Now you will be able
to learn to get your fingers to dance
and run across the keys, without straining and ending up in a cramp.”
I tried playing another of my pieces using
this relaxed technique, which I found difficult. But she encouraged me to try.
After that she tested my sight-reading which was rather slow by her standards.
She said I needed to learn a few new lines of
music each week. She would give me a note for my mother to buy a theory work
book and a piece by C.P.E. Bach titled Solfeggietto. To whet my interest she
took over the piano stool and played this Bach piece by memory. It was a
continuous line of running (dare I say dancing?) music, mostly played one hand after another, but so smoothly that I
could not hear the joins.
The forty minute lesson was soon over. As I
left to rejoin my mother, I was enthralled, excited and determined that I would strive to learn to play as Miss Hill
did.
[I followed much of Miss Hill’s methods in my own piano teaching some fifty years
later. I still love playing the Solfeggietto from memory at 94. I have taught many pupils to get their
fingers dancing and running through this music by J.S. Bach’s second son.]
After this musical interlude I must get back
to my description of school life in my first term at WHS. One afternoon a week
we had games, usually Rugby in the Autumn and
early Spring (provided it was not freezing as falling the hard ground could be
dangerous). I was disappointed as I was on the small thin size and would have
preferred football.
On that
first Rugby day, we changed into shorts, shirt and football boots for training
on the upper field, which was equipped with the tall Rugby
posts at each end. We started to learn how to throw and to catch the oval ball.
“Why must it be a silly oval ball,” we thought. This made kicking
difficult. Then we had to try running holding
the oval ball in our right arm, while being prepared to fend off potential
tacklers with our left hand.
Tackling
ideally involved a low dive to seize the legs, preferably the ankles, of a
running player of the opposing team. It required athletic skill, careful
judgment and courage to attempt this risky move. If well done the strongest
player would be forced to crash down. So we started tackling practice. Everyone
had to try two tackles and then experience twice being tackled. The pitch was a
little muddy and we were soon muddied ourselves plus a few bruises.
Then we
practised forming opposing ‘scrums’. Being light, I was put in the pack of 8 ‘Forwards’ as the ‘Hooker’ in the middle of
our front row. The boys either side of me were my support so that my legs were
free to try and heel the ball backwards, when it was flung into the middle of the scrum by our ‘scrum-half’. With the opposing hooker
trying to do the same thing, bruised shins were often the result. I and the other forwards alongside and behind were bent over and interlaced. Once the ball had been thrown in, the forwards
(except the suspended hookers) shoved forward as hard as they could with their
combined weight and strength. The hookers sought vigorously to heel the ball
back to their scrum mates. If our side shoved hard enough to get possession of
the ball, it would be seized by the fly-half and passed backward or level sideways (passing forward
is an offence), to one of the four
waiting ‘Three – quarters’
The three
quarters were the elite, chosen for their speed and vigour. They were the ones
to run and feint, carrying the ball with the aim of touching it down just over the line of the enemy’s ground,
preferably near to the goal posts to get a TRY. It might then be converted to a
goal by one of our players who was a good kicker,
Forwards
could also sometimes score a try or even kick a goal in mid-play. I think that
I only ever scored two trys in my five years at the school. There were a lot
more complicated rules about knock-ons and line-outs, etc., but I fear I have
already bored my readers on this subject.
Getting
back to my first afternoon of Rugby training,
our group of muddied boys needed to wash or shower before resuming normal
school clothing. I was very shy at this stage of my life and did not fancy
going naked with other boys into the communal shower. They were packed in
tightly and a fantastic sight. The master in charge soon shut the doors to give
the group some freedom from our gaping eyes. I cleaned myself using an ordinary wash basin. A few months later
individual showers were installed and I finally dared to use one.
Our weekly
PE in the gym also required changing into our kit, but showers were deemed
unnecessary. We did ladder-work, rope climbing and jumping over the ‘horse’
using a spring board plus other exercises. I managed an A1 certificate for the
first year but failed the next year because they raised the height of the horse
too much for my short height. In trying to clear the end of the horse during a
‘long-fly’, I strained my back, which annoyed me as unfair and harmful.
In the Summer term we often had swimming in
our unheated outdoor pool in lieu of PE in the gym. There was also sometimes
athletic training and cross-country
running. The latter usually went through Wanstead Park
However, our main game was now cricket, much
to my delight. My training and practice in Plashet Park
The first
match I played, maybe against the Saxons, was rather an ordeal. As the youngest
and smallest I batted last. When I was called in to take my centre bearing from
the umpire at the far end, I had to face four balls to complete the over before
the bowling switched to the other end. I was fourteen I think, and the Saxon
bowler was a hefty sixth former! My captain had urged me to let
alone any ball not in line with the wicket. The first ball raced by on the off side
– good. The second ball was closer in line with the off stump and very fast. I
bravely tried to block it, but the ball knocked my bat backwards and continued with a
slight deflection past the wicket-keeper
towards the boundary! I had started to run, but no need –I had scored four
runs. However, I was out next ball to a yorker knocking down my middle stump.
Now it was our turn to bowl and field. I was placed some distance from the action and
allowed just one over near the end. I am rather vague about the result. I was
nervous and not too accurate at first, so boundaries were being scored. But I
managed one really good off -break which resulted in a slip catch, to my
delight.
I must now
try to introduce some of the boys (and maybe girls) and the teachers. I had no
photos of year one but found an excellent form photo of my second year:-
WCHS Form Photo
1933
Our Form teacher, Mr K.B.Swaine with his 31 pupils ,
13 of whom were girls. He was also a specialist Maths teacher and a strong
disciplinarian, but very fair. So there was
no playing about in his lessons. We respected him even though we gave him a
nick-name – not difficult to guess (just omit the a from his surname). Towards
the end of my secondary school life, he wrote me a farewell letter. Knowing my
interest in classical music, he made
amusing comments such as the waste of so many orchestral players
of the same instrument, when all that was needed was one player of each
kind with a microphone, to produce sufficient volume for any large hall. I thought he could have
added that a purer sound could then well emerge (undoubtedly in school
orchestras) as in a string quartet. He also admitted the genius of the great
composers but added, “They never knew when to stop.” This was only gentle fun
at my expense in a very encouraging letter. [Years later I discovered that the
basic school maths text-books that helped my youngest son do well, were by K.B.
Swaine.]
You might
be asking where are all the smart school blazers with the Heron crest? The
requirement had been dropped to save expense for parents, probably due to our
kindly Headmaster, Mr A.F.Joseph,
Individual
boys.
Middle Row – I am on the extreme left with best
friend Grave alongside. We got on well at first until we had a playground
dispute over a broken ruler belonging to Grave. He claimed it was my fault and
wanted to break mine. I denied the charge and felt it would be silly to end up
with two broken rulers. He tried to grab
mine and I resisted firmly. It soon turned into a furious wrestling match.
Neither would give way and the fight carried on until the bell sounded for end
of the break. “We have wasted the whole break on this silly quarrel,” I said.
“Can’t we shake hands and forget it? You can have my ruler if you want.” He
smiled and offered his hand saying, “All right – you can keep your ruler.”
That’s how we became close friends. We loved dashing out from lunch, after the
second grace, to play fives or whatever games were available. We would sit together on
school coach excursions, such as a visit to the Rothampstead Research Institute on trees and plants. He even sometimes chanced finding me at home,
by travelling on his own from his home at 54 Wellesley Road Ilford to mine in
Manor Park to play (as he put it). I am sorry to say that I only once attempted
a return visit, by an arrangement to play billiards I had other things to do
normally, piano practice, excursions with brother Ken, or car trips with my
parents.
The only
other boy, whose address I recorded in my earliest diary (1935) was H.Greenburg,,
who lived at 81 Headley Drive
The sturdy
boy on the left of the top row was Osborne who took a friendly interest in me.
He was a good all-rounder in games (Rugby ,
etc.) and form work. He used to quiz me about my home life, asking such
questions as whether I washed in cold water in getting up in the morning – I
did and thought nothing special in that. He also tested my knowledge on sexual
matters which was minimal. I think he was one of a number of better-off form
members whose homes had a telephone: they used to phone one another of an
evening to discuss the homework required. The boy next to Osborne was probably
Inson. Further to the right of the three girls in the top row were Cross and
Russell, all worthy solid characters.
There are
many familiar faces in the middle row but my
memory of their names is weak. Starting from the right, the second boy
is Aldcroft who cycled to school and sometimes walked with me along Overton Drive
When I look at the girls, I can remember some
of the faces but names escape me, except for one . I think she is probably in
the front row of girls, second starting
from the left of the photo.
Bullying
Generally,
with one shocking exception, I think very little went on. In my very early days
at the school I was very shocked and
frightened by a commotion in the boys’ cloakroom, going home time. There on the
floor was a small naked boy crying piteously while two or three very senior six-formers
were making fun of him. There was a crowd of boys watching this cruelty, but no
one daring to try and stop the big bullies. One of the bullies picked up the
naked little boy, held him up high and whirled him around the room for general
viewing. I felt a cold chill within at
seeing such unchecked evil. I ran off home. I think I told Ken but not my
parents. I believe we heard later that there were two or three expulsions,
almost certainly resulting from this affair.
In that
first year, I suffered only a very minor incident. I went to the boys’ toilets
and was suddenly pushed into a cubicle by two boys not much older than myself.
They were behind me so I could only catch odd glimpses of their faces They were
intent on taking down my short trousers and pants. I resisted strongly for
about five minutes before they succeeded in seeing my ‘willy’. I was fearing pinching
or worse, but one of them said, “ I just like to see it”. Then they suddenly
released me and ran off. I told Ken but not my parents. Ken said I ought to
report them, but I could not identify them and it never happened again.
One day I
was going home rather late, when I came across Bennett being bullied by three
boys in the school drive, just outside the cloakroom He was yelling for help.
They were trying to induce an ant or two to go down his neck. I called them to
stop and made brief sallies to try and get Bennett’s release without being
caught myself. Then I looked around and went off to get help. But it was late and
I could not find anybody. When I finally went home the drive was deserted. I
realised then that I had behaved cowardly and let Bennett down. I should have
been bolder and plunged fighting into the group, even if they had let Bennett
go and started on me. I apologised humbly to Bennett the next day, but he
rightly refused to speak to me or allow a resumption of friendship. The shame
of this incident remains with me to the present day.
Progress with school work and pianoforte
My mother’s notebook on school work from exams in
Feb 1933 to December 1934 show a succession of 1st places plus two
form prizes. She gave up this record to
concentrate on my piano progress in exams and competitions. What an odious child I
was! I did not mind if I was called a
‘swot’, a derogatory label for a boy. I enjoyed most of the school work,
although weak on Geography and History. But I was fascinated by piano playing
and my lessons with Miss Hill. Her teaching went beyond the paid-for weekly
lessons. She would organise extra groups to learn theory and give extra
coaching at times at her home at 22
Park Road
But what
happened on my second and subsequent
lessons with Miss Hill ? She almost
certainly started my preparation for the
first formal M.A.M examination for their Bronze Medal. I passed this with 88 %
marks in December 1933.
In the
Spring of 1934, Miss Hill arranged for me to play piano duets with another of
her pupils, Yvonne Thurley who was about my age. This was quite fun. We gained
a Certificate of Merit First Class in the Stratford
I passed the
Silver Medal examination with 82 marks
in December 1934. Miss Hill also entered me for various competitions run by the
M.A.M. and other institutions at Stratford and London Methodist
Church in the Romford Road Manor Park
You may
remember I was given “Solfegietto” to
get my fingers running or dancing. I worked on this and the Chopin’s Raindrops Prelude for a
special trial MAM concert in May 1934. .Following this Russell Bonner, Director
of studies, wrote me a personal letter inviting me to take part in the main MAM
Junior Students’ Concert for all branches of the Academy on 7th June
1934. He added that they would put me down to play Bach’s Solfeggietto, but
there might not be time to play my second piece. I am sure Miss Hill was
pleased.
At a WCHS
concert on 5.7.1935 to celebrate the 250th anniversary of J.S.Bach,
I took part in a school play/concert acting the part of the composer at the age
of 10 and later, Emanuel a son. Then I
played which Bach piece? You guessed
rightly – Solfeggietto by C.P.E. Bach. I played it smoothly but fast, much to
the disapproval of Miss Manley , the School’s piano teacher. We had argued about
this at rehearsal. She wanted it played much more slowly. She was a good
pianist and played quite a lot during the evening. I may have been wrong, but if Russell Bonner liked my playing of
Solfeggietto that was good enough for me.
Home Life
Brother Ken
would have left our school at the end of my first year, July 1933. He took a
job with a glove wholesaler in London
The Methodist Church Romford Road
Both Dad
and Mum were members of the Church and took part in various activities such as
jumble sales, socials, etc. Each year there was a special concert with local
talent – including me when my fingers began to dance. In addition to the
musical items, there was usually a sketch. I have an old programme of the Manor
Park Fellowship Annual Concert of Feb. 13th 1936. It listed 16
items, one of them a sketch, ‘Runaway Wives’ performed by the Minerva Amateur
Dramatic Society. The list of Artistes
on the front cover included Master John Acton
- Pianoforte and Mrs D Acton as one of the two accompanists. The tickets
were sixpence or a shilling and programmes cost a penny. [A few years earlier
the entry charge was by way of a ‘silver collection’: People used to collect
the rare silver three-penny bits for the occasion.]
I played firstly a Beethoven Sonata in D Minor
(Op.31 No.2) and then in the second half, Polichinella by Rachmaninoff. Another boy ‘Artiste’ was a singer. Master
Alfred Rosenfield. I think it was in the second half that his pure treble voice
tragically wavered and broke, something that happens at his age. I consoled him
as best as I could. I noted this ‘awful’ happening in my diary. I was glad boy
pianists did not have to face this hurdle.
Our Methodist Church
My father
was in charge of the Sunday School for a time. Because of the distance from our
home. I did not attend this Sunday School, although usually went on the large
annual seaside outing. In fact I only attended a local Church Sunday School for
a year. It made little impact on me.
My father
kept up his friendship with the Chester Manor
Park
Brother Ken had joined the Scouts earlier, was
very enthusiastic and soon made progress as a junior leader. He brought his
pack or group home on one occasion, so that I could give them a film show,
Harold Lloyd and cartoons, on my home Pathescope 9.5mm Projector. My Mum asked me
about joining cubs or scouts, but I felt I needed the time for piano practice
and homework.
As a family we started attending the Manor Park
Methodist Church Germany
Holidays at St Osyth Stone.
I mentioned in ‘My very earliest memories’ that we had a trial beach hut holiday at St Osyth
(Toosey) village beach. This inspired my Dad to investigate a proposed beach
hut development at St Osyth Stone, immediately opposite Brightlingsea. It could
be reached by train to Brightlingsea and row-boat ferry, or by car down a rough
road from St Osyth to just beyond Point Clear. We tried both. Dad made a
contract with the developer, a builder called Wade, to build the first wooden
chalet on the sea wall facing out to the distant Mersea Island
It was finished after a great deal of delays
and queries in either 1932 or 1933 I think. It had two bunk bedrooms (i.e.
sleeping four) with a kitchen/living room in front. At this stage there was no
running water, electricity or gas. Cooking was by oil stove and there were oil
lamps. The living space including a veranda was all at the high sea wall level.
Underneath was a garage and outside that a small hut containing a chemical
toilet. My Dad named it “ODTAA”. Dad resisted explanation of the name, but
finally told me it meant, “One damn thing after another!” but with no
disrespect for Mr Wade. In fact he provided several amenities as time went by,
including a free hard tennis court which gave immense fun to Ken and me.
There was also on the estate a Martello Tower
There were
two or three ancient stones lying near the Martello Tower
My niece Maureen and nephew Peter on the beach in
front of the chalets in 1954
[As I could not find a thirties photo, I have had to
use a 1954 snap to show the chalets and the beach.]
Primitive living ? Yes, but how wonderfully
exciting for Ken and myself. The beach was rather stony with patches of sand.
There were pools and a sort of stony mini- peninsula going a hundred feet or so
out to sea from the shore, which got covered at high tide. We could fish from
the sea wall outside our bungalow at high tide or from the end of the peninsula
at low tide. Swimming was safe towards high tide. At low tide we could walk a
hundred yards or more and pick out cockles which Mum liked. Ken and I bought or
were given hand-lines. We dug worms for bait and soon became expert in catching
mostly eels but some flat fish (flounders) which kept us in fishy meals. We
reckoned to catch at least 200 eels during our summer holiday.
Two years
or so later, Dad arranged for Wade to
build a slightly bigger and more
luxurious beach chalet almost next door to Odtaa. He called it “Dacton” based
on Mum’s name. This meant Odtaa could be let or used to house visitors such as
family or friends.
As the
estate developed and prospered, we would visit the neighbouring chalets and
share out our surplus eels. When we had visitors who declared they did not
fancy eels, Mum used to cook them, remove the skins and central bone before
serving. As they enjoyed the delicious white fish, we would wait until they had
finished, before revealing that they had eaten eels.
Behind our
chalet was the Martello Tower already mentioned and the ‘Saltings’, marshy land
mostly protected by sea walls and intersected with ditches and pools of mostly
salt water. One could find edible mushrooms and also on the narrow foot-paths,
basking adders. So we needed wellingtons if we wandered over the Saltings and
kept wary eyes open for adders. I had to warn visitors with children more than
once about this danger. We were only about a hundred yards away from
Brightlingsea harbour which would be full of yachts, fishing boats and, of
course, the two-penny row-boat ferry.
A year or
so after buying Odtaa, my enterprising Dad bought a row-boat with a primitive mast
and sail. It was mounted on a two-wheel trolley. We could push it round to the ‘hard’
on our side of the harbour and launch it ready for fun and advanced fishing
expeditions. Ken and I developed rowing skills and also learnt to scull with
one oar in a row-lock at the stern of the boat. This was a very useful skill.
If we ‘caught a crab’ and lost an oar when rowing, we could scull with the
remaining oar and quickly propel the boat to pick up the missing floating oar.
We wore no life-belts or jackets. I had a quarter-mile swimming certificate
from school, but at that stage I think Ken could only manage a few yards. We
only occasionally used the sail. We kept an axe as well as the anchor and chain
in the bow of the boat. We once went as
far as Mersea Island
On one
occasion when I was 14 or 15, Mum agreed to go fishing with me in the boat,
then anchored near the harbour. Ken would have been at work in London
My
Mother in her Forties
We noticed a large commercial wherry or sailing ship
coming out with the tide flow from Brightlingsea. I thought the ship would
surely miss us, but NO ! It scraped our side and a seaman was swearing at us to
get out of the way. I had been trying to pull up the anchor, but it was stuck.
Mum was terrified – with reason. I could easily have jumped overboard and swum
to the shore, but Mum could not. Our boat was now snagged on the hull of the ship and we were being
tugged along out to sea. The seaman above us on the ship now had a long
fending-off pole and repeatedly pushed it down onto our boar. Praise God we
were suddenly pushed free of the big ship. I hastily pulled up the anchor (now
freed) and rowed for the shore. Mum’s
face was white: perhaps mine was too or maybe flaming red with shame. I
apologised very humbly. My Mum finally said, “I shall never go out again on a
boat with you John.” In retrospect I had
made a grave error and risked my mother’s life. I promised to be much
more cautious in using the boat and sought her forgiveness, which she gave me.
I think she must have played down my error in telling my Dad or else kept it from him. Was it my mother’s
prayers in the crisis that enabled the seaman to push our boat free?
Back to
School
It is time
to catch up with what has been happening at school. Towards the end of
March1935, Grave told me he was holding a birthday party at his Ilford home on
Saturday, 30th March. It would go on to very late on the Saturday
evening. So his mother had agreed that a sleep-over to the Sunday morning could
be arranged for myself and one other boy who lived at a distance from Ilford.
“Please
will you come?” he asked. I hastily looked at my diary that I had started
keeping. There were a few nearby musical dates – competition and a rehearsal, but I was free on the Saturday.
“Yes
please. It sounds great but I must check with my mother whom I hope will drop
me and pick me up on the Sunday morning.”
Next day I
told Grave that I could definitely come. He was pleased and then nonchalantly
dropped a bomb-shell by saying, “I have also invited a few of the girls from
our form to come.”
I was
startled. This really was breaking down the School’s (hidden) segregation
policy – mixed classes but no social chatting, different playgrounds and
mid-day lunch halls. “Gosh you’re brave,” I said.
“Don’t worry.
I have invited equal numbers of girls and boys,” he said cheekily. I suspected
then that he had probably been to other mixed parties and already knew some of
the girls well enough to invite them.
On the
special day, Mum dropped me at Grave’s Ilford address in the early evening,
complete with a small case containing pyjamas, towel, toothbrush and also a
card and mini-present for Grave. About 7.30 p.m. the other guests arrived and
we all assembled in a spacious lounge, ten or twelve of our form I would guess.
I knew the boys, but who were that
giggly cluster of girls in pretty party
frocks at the far end of the room? They looked very different from the school
girls, who we were used to seeing in their uniform gym slips.
Grave was a
good host and proved an expert party organiser. He had an elder sister who had
probably given him ideas. We were mostly still in two groups of the same sex. So
he introduced a game which ensured each boy chatted up an individual girl. I cannot be positive but it was something
like having two pots of numbered slips of
paper coloured red (girls) or blue(boys). We all took one and had to
find a match and say “Hello” and give our Christian names. Then we might have
to play a simple game such as ‘Paper,
stone or scissors,’ with our partner.
After that a return of our paper numbers to the pots
and a fresh shuffle, with the proviso that we must find a different partner for
the second round. Then there were games with balloons, drawing and acting
clumps. I think the last was the most popular and caused much laughter. Then,
of course, there would be a break for drinks, sandwiches and a slice of Grave’s
Birthday cake. We were all having a
really good time, with no one left out. I admired Grave’s careful planning and
control of the evening. No wonder he was
popular. We sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to him with gusto.
It was
getting late when Grave astounded me and possibly most of us, by introducing his
final game. It was not ‘Postman’s Knock’ such as I had played way back with my
girl cousins, Barbara(Babs) and Christine Stevens, who lived in Forest Gate. It
was called ‘Hyde Park Corner’. .
“It is
quite simple,” said Grave placing an ordinary chair in the middle of the room.
“I will demonstrate.” He sat down on it and invited any girl who wished to do
so, to come and sit sideways on his knee. Then he would give her a kiss. There
was only a short pause before one girl came forward to sit down and receive a
kiss. This was greeted with cheers, laughter and clapping.
“Now it’s
your turn Acton
I blushed.
I had been given no warning. This was a challenge. Would any girl fancy sitting
on my knee and brave my specs in receiving a kiss? I wished I had taken them
off, but I was quite short-sighted without them. I really had no choice, so I
went forward and sat on the chair. Would any girl venture to come? I dared not
look around but kept my eyes on the floor. There was a hush. Then I saw a pair
of sandals coming into the focus of my
eyes. It was my first partner of the evening coming shyly towards me,
also with downcast eyes. As she got nearer she looked up briefly. I caught her
eye, smiled and held out a hand. She had such a sweet serious face as she came
alongside and sat sideways on my knee. I felt myself overwhelmed with emotion.
I think we both completely
forgot the watching crowd. I put my left arm
round her waist and she moved her face closer to mine. I realised that
she really wanted me to kiss her. So I gently kissed her cheek. This felt so good that,
ignoring the crowd’s cheers and clapping, I kissed her again. Then hastily (though reluctantly) I released her
and we went our separate ways. After all it was only a party game played in
full view of everyone. But for me it was such a profound experience that I
never forgot it.
For weeks after I was teased about it. Apart
from the odd smile on the rare occasion when we happened to pass one another on
the stairways, we exchanged no further words. We both knew that at fourteen we
would have no time for serious boy/girl friendships. I knew her name well but
kept quiet about it at home. Nevertheless I was deeply indebted to Grave for
giving me this ‘growing up’ experience. In my diary I wrote, “VERY GOOD” on the
date.
School work progressed. Some subjects were
dropped to enable concentration on those, in which we wanted to do well in the
General School Certificate and Matriculation
examinations. We would take these at the 15/16 year stage. I decided to drop Botany and History. We were
given a new Form Teacher in Miss J.E.Hinchley, an English specialist. We still
had Mr Swaine for Maths fortunately.
Ma
Hinchley, as we privately called her, was also a strong character and did
mother us to some extent. She gave practical advice to the girls, not to spoil
their wonderful ‘schoolgirl’ complexions with cosmetic additions such as rouge
and lipstick. We boys heartily agreed with that. She did add that some make-up
could be suitable for some grown-ups. Then she started on us. She suggested
that a lot of the hair lotions, gels or brilliantine, particularly the latter,
were unattractive on boys. I thought Aldcroft looked uncomfortable. However, I
could see the girls were enjoying this. I made a mental note to reduce my use
of oily hair lotions.
Miss
Hinchley loved books and taught us to treat them carefully. We were instructed
to take them home and make brown paper covers to protect their valuable
content. We had a lot of short essay writing homework. She also instituted form
play-reading, Shakespeare and other dramatists. This was very popular and much
enjoyed by Grave and me. I particularly liked taking the part of an old man,
using the deepest voice I could manage.
In our
second year with Miss Hinchley, she was asked to put on a short play at a
school concert. Whether parents were invited I could not say. The play was “A
Little Man” which I thought was by J B Priestly, but I am not sure. Strangely
the hit pop tune of the day was “Little man you have had a busy day.” I was given the ‘Little Man’ part. Grave and others also had acting and speaking
roles. At least one scene had painted
stage backgrounds, They mostly showed one side of a railway carriage. We took
our seats carefully on the ‘train
benches’ and said our lines. At the same time we had to simulate the train’s
motion by swaying gently in unison from side to side. I have forgotten the plot
except that there was a fear that a travelling child might have a very
infectious disease - its face was grubby and might be spotty. Acting as the
brave ‘Little Man,’ I dramatically drew back the child’s sleeve and said, “Look
- as white as a banana !”
The actors
got up quickly to look. Their reaction set the
nearest stage background rocking. We panicked and tried to push it back up,
but there was a knock-on effect on the adjacent stage scenery. Mayhem resulted
with much back-stage activity. A great swell of laughter rose up from the hall.
We were told by a grim-face Ma Hinchley to fall back and wait for the stage
curtain to be lowered. Then we were led out to take a bow with applause and
more laughter. In retrospect our play had accidentally become knock-about
comedy, giving the greatest entertainment of the evening.
We
apologised profusely to Miss Hinchley who realised that it was all accidental -
and that perhaps the stage scenery should have been more securely fixed. Play
time was over and we now ha to concentrate on preparation for mocks and then the
actual GSC and Matriculation exams.
In 1936 – 1937 there was an interchange
of Students with Cologne Secondary School
I am unsure
of the date but one morning break, I was late going down to the boys’
playground. It was mostly empty. I heard noises and shouting coming from the
direction of the coal store compound. I rushed down to it and found a crowd of
boys watching a dreadful scene. Our Jewish boys had been secretly and suddenly
rounded up by Seniors influenced by their German contacts. They had been forced to go into the coal storage
shelter with nasty anti-Jewish taunts. Someone said that teachers had been alerted
and would arrive shortly. It was also time to get back to classes as the bell
had sounded.
Later, Greenberg spoke calmly to me about his experience and
said he was not physically hurt. I belive that Grave escaped the hunt - his
Jewishness was less obvious than that of Greenberg and Goldberg.
I cannot
remember any public denunciation of this shameful event in a school assembly. I think it was mostly
hushed up. I doubt it got into the local
paper. It was a politically anxious time for our nation.
Home Life
My 1936 diary shows the death of King George V on 20th
Janury followed by announcement of the new King Edward V111.
My Grandmother, Mrs Alice Hitchcock Acton
There is a mass of school dates, music dates,
but then a heavily underlined note,
‘Grandmother ill’ on 22nd February 1936. She died two days later. Grandad Acton
My Dad and
Mum’s Silver Wedding was noted on 17th
April 1936. The diary entries mostly peter out until a note of Mock Matric
exams appear on several dates in June 1936.
On 20th
July 1936 Mum took me to London
When the
result was known, Miss Hill counselled me to take a break from working for a
repeat attempt on the Gold Medal MAM
exam. Instead I should consider working
for a Diploma in due course. I also needed to learn a lot of new music to
improve my sight reading.. The Summer holiday at our St Osyth Stone chalet was just about to start. That meant a long break from
piano playing.
On return
from the holiday I decided on working
for a Performer’s Diploma of the Royal Academy of Music, since this would avoid
continual slogging away at the scales and arpeggios (not required). It would
require a very much higher standard of
playing more difficult piece, but this was my aim. Miss Hill helped me and that was probably when I began a
preliminary start on Beethoven’s great
Appassionata Sonata. This was in the second book of Beethoven Sonatas which I
had won as second prize in April 1935 at a London
Meanwhile I
spent most of my study time working for the GSE and Matriculation exams. I duly passed in 7 subjects with Matriculation
exemption. Grave’s name was missing from the results list. We had not seen him in school for a while which was
a mystery. Greenberg and I thought that perhaps he was ill. But we had no
information and we were all very busy on our various studies. We thought Grave
would be bound to let us know if he had moved away or some tragedy had occurred.
To my shame I was so centred on my own affairs that I let this matter slip.
Towards the
end of 1936 my Dad came up with another amazing project, to remove us from Manor Park
to Shenfield on the North side of Brentwood, Essex .
This was very exciting: a move of about twenty miles North of London to the Essex countryside. Our journey from Manor Park
Dad had researched his project carefully. There was a
very old property on the Shenfield to Chelmsford 108 Chelmsford Road 12 Byron Avenue London
Elm Lodge in recent times
Our
family’s first visit to see Elm Lodge was on 7th December 1936 but a closer inspection was deferred. My
diary shows my concern about the abdication of Edward VIII on 10th December, which saddened me. Then came
my sixteenth birthday on 12th
December, mixed up with the accession of King George VI. We did some work on Elm Lodge garden on 23rd December just
before the following Christmas
festivities, family visits and presents at 12 Byron Avenue
On 2nd
and 3rd January 1937 we again visited Elm Lodge and this time met
the tenant of Elm Cottage. Mr Dorin was a very pleasant old man who explained
to me how he got his drinking water. Every morning he would take a small jug of
water into our garden to ‘prime’ the pump on top of our well. Then he worked
the pump handle up and down a few times to draw up enough water to fill a pail.
Unlike Elm Lodge, he had no mains water or electricity supply, but had an
outside toilet hut properly connected to a main sewer. He invited me inside to
show me one or two old books such as an ancient atlas. I think later on he gave
them to me. There was quite a strong smell of paraffin within.
Elm Cottage - extended at the far end since our time
We went on
more visits, gardening and exploring Elm Lodge in greater detail. Dad had bought two architectural museums in
effect. There was no furniture in the Lodge. Mum also said there was not a
right angle anywhere! Beams abounded but in some bedrooms they twisted
ominously downwards. The floors were the very wide ancient type but in a
reasonable state. A very small entrance lobby led to a sitting room on either
side. The right-hand one acted as a corridor to the toilet and kitchen and also
housed the main staircase leading to three main bedrooms across the front, with
a small attic and a bathroom at the back. There was also a small set of stairs
tucked into one corner of the bedroom on the left. A small ground floor room at
the back with a door to the garden, had some bottle glass in its window.
At the
front driveway, there was a cherry tree, alongside a small lawn over-shadowed
by a huge apple tree with a heavy drooping branch. There was a large
triangular garden at the back with a
ploughed field on one side. The footpath on the other side led to Hall Lane
There were many fruit trees – two or three apple
varieties, two pears, a large walnut tree and other delights such as a Medlar
tree.
Footpath from Hall Lane leading to Elm Lodge
On 26th
January 1937 I sat for the Civil Service Clerical Exam and passed it. Later I
also took and passed the LCC Exam, but Dad assured me that the Civil Service
was my best option. I should mention here that WHS teachers were very much
against my dropping out of the sixth form and possible University education. A
year earlier I made a diary note that Miss Hinchley had persuaded me to agree
to go for a Higher Schools Examination. We had no phone but teachers probably
wrote to my parents. Dad, who left school at fourteen, expressed the view that
most of the senior Civil Servants were ‘over-educated’ (sic). However, he did
give me the option of trying for higher education. He had reached the position
of an Executive Officer in Customs and
Excise. Certainly he was managing our family affairs,
including a car, an Essex country home and
holiday homes at St Osyth Stone, very well. My main interest was still piano
studies, so I took his advice gladly. I would become a Clerical Officer and
this would give me two chances of taking
the Executive Examination in due course.
Meanwhile
the move to Shenfield was still progressing.
I had several diary notes about packing stuff at home in preparation. We
actually made our final move on Wednesday 24th March 1937’
On Thursday
we had our first post at Elm Lodge. Strangely it was for Master John Acton! It had
been re-addressed from 12 Byron
Avenue Manor
Park Regent Street
London London
I could
scarcely believe it, but we wrote off an acceptance and almost immediately I
went up for an audition at some piano warehouse in London London
My diary
for the week beginning Monday 12th
April 1937 shows me first at St Osyth Stone helping my Dad cement the frontage
of Seagirt, another chalet he had bought. We went back to Elm Lodge that
evening, since I had further film rehearsals on Tuesday,
Thursday and Saturday. On the Friday I had entered the Stratford Festival open
piano solo competition for ages 15 – 16. I obtained the bronze medal (second place) and Sylvia
Faust won the silver medal. I knew her slightly from previous contests and we
were both in the team of juvenile pianists rehearsing for the film. Sorry if
all this detail is boring, but I felt I ought to show the break-neck speed of
working involved.
I was back
to school on 21st April and was made a Monitor by the Headmaster on 27th
April. I had to get special leave on 29th and 30th for the
sound recording and then the final film shooting, both at Sound City Studios,
Shepperton. We were promised a guinea a day and all expenses paid plus lunch,
including an accompanying parent, for the days spent at the Shepperton studios.
We learned that the film was called “Talking Feet” and featured a nine year old
tap dancer, Hazel Ascot. Regretfully we did not get a chance to see her. We
gathered that she might well become Britain
Hazel Ascot
On Thursday
29th April 1937, Mum called me early, but I was already awake and
washed, ready for the great adventure. Mum and I caught an early fast train to Liverpool Street Sound City
As our taxi
was waved through the guarded gateway of Sound City
Then we
were given our first glimpse of the real studio. We stepped into it through two
heavily padded doors with an air space between. The chief things we noticed
then were the walls. which were padded in a similar way to the doors, with the
padding held in place by wire netting. There was part of a theatre built. On
the stage and in fact every where, there was an army of carpenters working and
making a fearful din. Scattered about in groups were both small and large arc
lights all supported on separate metal stands. We looked upwards to the high
roof and saw tiny figures perched on flimsy metal scaffolding, presumably
attending to the arc lights up there. On the ground in front of us were
literally hundreds of small, large and
some very thick electric cables. One could not cross the floor without walking
on some.
We then had
a dress parade to make sure that our costumes fitted and were in order. The
boys wore a black suit with white shirt, black tie and large white collar. The
girls wore a frilly white frock with a large white bow adorning their
hair. This was done to a Director’s
satisfaction. Then we changed back to our ordinary clothes as the rest of the
day would be spent on sound recording. This took place in a similar vast, but
more empty hall.
After a
preliminary rehearsal on fourteen Mini-Pianos, probably provide by the piano
firm in an advertising contract, we had our first ‘Take’ or sound recording. A
bell sounded. The padded entrance doors were shut. A red light gleamed in the roof. All the other red lights
were switched on. A neon lighting sign, ‘Silence,’ also appeared just above the
door. A man with a portable telephone signalled the sound engineers to say that
we were ready. There came a low-pitched buzz from the telephone. A man stepped
forward and said, “Sequence thirty-six, take one, sound track only-one, two,
three,” and clapped together two flat pieces of wood hinged together at one
end. The moment after this our music conductor counted slightly faster from one
to eight and then raised his baton.
After the suspense of this ritual, we
pianists were rather nervous in our
playing. It took two or three “takes” before we finally played to the best of
our ability. After each “take”, a rough recording of our work was played back
and critically listened to by the Directors. In the end we were informed that
the best portions of each recording would be cut out and spliced together. This would make one perfect and complete
sound track.
This work
took all day apart from the lunch break when we met up with our respective
parents or guardians. Taxis took us back to London
The next
day, Friday, was scheduled for the actual filming. We were warned that we might
also be needed on the Saturday to complete the job. Then came a minor shock. We
each had to submit to an individual make-up session. It involved face paint,
lip-stick and hands paint. The result made us look yellowish brown in ordinary
daylight. I found wearing make-up very uncomfortable. I had also agreed to leave off my glasses for
the filming. Then we were introduced to our positions on the big Hollywood style stage with five or six levels - see the ‘still’ photo below, courtesy of U.K.
Films Ltd. I was on the right hand side, lowest level.
At the foot
of the stage was the Scotch Kilties Band with a boyish conductor. They joined
in only with the closing chords of our playing. In the body of the hall were
about forty ‘extras’ (the audience) seated in a triangle arrangement: a full
width at the front, but each succeeding line getting smaller. Thus a camera filming from the back
could give the impression of a crowded hall.
On the set
we had to endure the exhausting heat and light from the powerful arc lights, which
were trained on us from every direction. The black and white filming like the
sound recording, had a similar starting ritual. We listened to the clapper man
and then Kennedy Russell counting one to
eight, Then the recorded music and our
simulated playing started together. We had to listen carefully to the recording to ensure an exact simulation for the cameras filming us from all
directions, including overhead close-ups at times. This was the system used at
the time. The sound we made this time was not recorded, only the filming. The
sound and film tracks would be matched together in the cutting room. Owing to
the glare and the heat we had to take frequent rests, so that the make-up ladies could powder our perspiring faces and
do any other repairs necessary.
At the
Friday lunch there was only pork on the menu which caused an irate protest from
one of the parents, presumably of a strict Jewish faith. There was some
sympathy for her and apologies from the management. But I enjoyed the sausages. My mother was very
interested in every detail of the recording and filming, 0ur make-up had been
washed off before lunch, although it would be re-applied for the afternoon
session. I told Mum about the roving cameras on the go all the time. I was very
interested in the “Sky-Hi”, a huge moveable crane with a mounted camera and
high seats for the chief and assistant cine photographers and a producer.
Compressed air from an electric generator was used by an engineer to control
the valves of the hydraulic crane (so I was told). While we were playing, the
crane camera would be moving around and taking individual close-ups or ‘panning’
general scenes. It was nerve-racking concentrating on playing our memorised
music in exact timing with the recording, knowing that at any time the hovering
cameras might choose one for a close-up.
We had
completed our first piece, an arrangement of the Overture to William Tell by
Rossini, which I thought was exciting and well done. We had also listened to
Mark Hambourg play Chopin’s Polonaise in A Major and duly clapped him on stage.
I think most of us could play it and listened critically. Off stage we thought
he played it a little too fast but kept this o ourselves. Our second piece, an
arrangement of a pop song of the day, “When day is done (and shadows fall),”
was less successful, we thought. Kennedy Russell had interlaced further themes
which tended to obscure the perception of the main theme. We were told on the
Friday that we were needed also on Saturday (a third day o filming).
On Saturday
as a special treat, we were shown the film that we had made the previous day.
We were very amused seeing ourselves playing on the screen. But there was more
work to do, particularly on “When Day is Done.” So we had to have make-up
applied before final film shooting.
Group photo on stage set - courtesy of U.K.Films Ltd
As a last
treat we were assembled on stage for
some group photos along with Kennedy Russell the Music Director and Arranger,
seated at a mini-piano, Wallace Orton the Director on the right and Bob Jones the
Production Manager on the left. I was in the top row, third boy from the left.
Then for a short while as we said our farewells, we tried to get autographs of
the three. film professionals and also of each other. The team’s signatures are
difficult to read. See below;-
Joyce Kenny?
Sylvia A E Faust, Dolly Wolff,
June Hitchcock, Ellen Rydell,? Joan
Johnston? Josephine Levy and Eric C…..? Lawrence Clark (pupil of Miss Hill),
Edward R Gallagher? Eric Luck, Alvin F
Lipsy?
It was a happy conclusion to quite a strenuous time.
We had each earned three guineas as professional junior pianists and enjoyed
the experience. I was still rather shy with girls, despite Grave’s efforts at
his party. I would have liked to chat more with Sylvia Faust but we were sent
off to the dressing rooms fairly quickly
to change and prepare for home.
Within a
week of the filming I wrote an account for the WHS Heronian magazine. This
helped a lot in my getting correct details of the filming procedures at Shepperton in 1937.
Return to norm al life.
Following the
end of the Easter holiday, I travelled back from Elm Lodge to school for my
final term at WHS on 21st April 1937. I used a coach service this time. The
next day was Dad’s 49th birthday and I gave him Coronation
Chocolates (probably helped by Mum). Then came film shooting as already
described.
On 5th
May I was notified that I had passed the
Civil Service Clerical exam. My position was 414th out of 2,ooo
successful – very mediocre although there were 7,300 entrants. I think the St
George’s correspondence course I took
had failed in explaining the Arithmetic short cuts used, as I scored only 15 out of 100! Whereas in Mathematics I scored
194 out of 200. Dad gave me £1 for persistence. In the School sports day on 8th
May, I was delighted to cheer my friend Russell for achieving Victor Ludorum by
a good margin.
The
coronation of George VI was high-lighted on 12th May. I had a Civil
Service medical with Dr Gibson who was very nice and suggested I might become
Chancellor of the Exchequer one day. We now went more frequently to our
sea-side bungalow/chalet from Elm Lodge. Om
Sunday 30th May I noted that I had caught two eels and played tennis with Ken. The next day I
was so pleased that we were able to move my beloved Nan
into Elm Cottage.
Church-going.
Almost nil once we had removed to Elm Lodge at Shenfield. We were away a lot at
St Osyth Stone at weekends and would come home late on a Sunday evening. I can
remember we visited the Brentwood Methodist Church
once, but it seemed very different to the Manor Park Manor Park
Entry to
H.M.Customs and Excise. On Monday 14th June I went up with Dad
by rail to Liverpool Street Mark
Lane Lower
Thames Street
I was paid
£85 per annum, working 9 to 4 or 10 to 5 with lunch 1-2 p.m., five and a half days a week except
occasionally I might be required to stop Saturday afternoon on my own. This was
in case there was an urgent request for a file from one of the Executive
Sections. I was allowed 24 days annual leave. Dinners in the Customs’ Luncheon
Club would cost 5/- a week. The railway season ticket would cost £5:10s: and 6d
for three months. Dad agreed I could have four shillings a week pocket money
and suggested I should try and save half in a P.O. Savings Bank. The remainder
probably went to Mum for house-keeping.
I should
add that all new appointments were on probation, maybe for a year, and subject
to efficiency reports before ‘Establishment’ would be granted. I apologise for
all these details, but they may interest some.
On
Wednesday, 30th June, I stood in line with others to receive my
first Civil Service pay in cash,, £3 :18:6 ½.
The next day, 1st July 1937 in the
evening, I went with my mother to the ‘Trade’ showing of Talking Feet. It was
held in the West End at the Phoenix Theatre.
The Upper Circle
It was classed as a B Movie but had good write-ups
Back at the
Customs and Excise registry, I told one or two of my young fellow-workers about
my playing in a B Movie. They did not believe me. I scarcely believed it
myself. Meanwhile shortened week-ends continued at the ‘bungalow’ as we called
it. Ken had a holiday from his work in the City and spent it at the bungalow with cousin Victor.
On 13th
July I had a letter from the Film Company asking whether I could make some
personal appearances with the showings of the Talking Feet film. It was not
practicable for me - so goodbye to all that.
Generally I
was very happy with life. I enjoyed the beginning of independence that a
reasonably paid job in the Customs gave me. There was an early prospect of
moving to a more interesting job in one of the Executive Sections, such as
where my Dad worked. I tried a City night class to work for the Executive exam
but found it unsuitable so started on a correspondence course. Miss Hill was very accommodating in fixing
times and places of my piano lessons, e.g. a studio close to Ilford Station.
Ken and I had friends (the Slaughters) in Hutton
Mount who would invite us over to play tennis, which was good. There are also
references to billiards and Monopoly in my diary.
We
celebrated Ken’s Twenty First Birthday at Elm Lodge on Tuesday 17th
August 1937.I detailed all the presents and cost if known! An umbrella 16/11
from me, a watch £5 from Dad,, clothes from Mum, a suitcase from Auntie Vi and
Uncle Harold, fountain pen from Nan, gold cuff-links from Uncle Ernie, two
telegrams and sixteen letters (presumably enclosing cards and maybe postal
orders?). There were so many people there that Ken was seated half-way up the
stairs at Elm Lodge.
Mum had her
birthday on Sunday 29th August at the bungalow. Ken gave Mum a
lovely pair of gloves - he was presumably
working for a glove wholesaler at that time. I gave her half of a choc. box and
ten cigarettes! At work on Wednesday I noted I had 50 BFs to do, i.e. I had to
locate from store and send up to the Sections, fifty files that were due to be
‘brought forward’ for attention. But I was looking forward to my first official annual leave - two weeks staring on
Monday 27th September, spent partly at the bungalow and partly at
home. On Sunday 3rd October
Ken and I had a record haul of fish,, 19 flounders and 6 eels, probably caught
in the harbour following the arrival of
the Shrimpers with their catch. Back home on Tuesday 5th October, I
bought myself a new grey flannel suit from the Houndsditch Warehouse and
treated Mum to see “Talking Feet” at the Astoria Cinema. [Thereafter I did not
see the film again for 77 years].
My diary
continued with mostly routine notes until my Seventeenth Birthday on 12th
December 1937. This is simply noted “ *
My Birthday * ” with no mention of presents, although I am sure there were
some. There was also little mention of Christmas. A financial note at the back revealed that I
had taken my first attempt at the
Executive Officers exam and had failed to secure a place. My Dad, however, had
given me a £1 ‘for persistence’.
I think
that is perhaps a suitable note with which to end this attempt to describe my
first sixteen years of life. Whether it was school work or piano-playing, there
were always others more brilliant. But I got by with persistence, making the best of what I could
do. I regret that I was so self-centred that I neglected to enquire further as
to what happened to my friend Grave. I also regretted losing that contact with
the Methodist Church
in Manor Park
John G Acton November 2015
posted by John Acton at 8:30 AM
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