Pigeon English, We Had It So Good and Must You Go, My Life With Harold Pinter

The common denominator for these three books? They all end with a death. Apart from that, they are all excellent.

Though shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize 2011, the subject matter for Stephen Kellman's first novel Pigeon English was not at all encouraging. Being narrated by an eleven year old immigrant boy growing up in a poor high rise flat in London (think "Attack The Block"), it would normally be a book I would never consider. How wrong can you be. When I read the first page, I knew immediately I was in for a treat. The whole novel is both funny and shattering at the same time. Peppered with "innits" and "advise yourself", we come across some extraordinary characters in and out of school. The dialogue between Harrison and his older sister Lydia is some of the funniest I have read for a long time. Lydia: "Get out of my face now, you're vexing me" - Harrison: "Well your face is vexing me, fish lips".

From boyhood in suburban Los Angeles to a prosperous adult life in north London via a wasted Rhodes scholarship at Oxford, the story of Stephen Newman and his family, which straddles the 20th and 21st centuries, is  always fascinating. We Had It So Good is Linda Grant's fifth novel and as the title says, how lucky we were to have been born in the baby boomer years (although I am slightly older). Although Stephen's wife's best friend Grace may be the exception. Told chronologically, it is fascinating to see how their lives change, and how Stephen and Andrea's children grow up to become nothing like their parents. Grant is an excellent writer, and the book is always interesting. But I'm glad I never did drugs in the sixties.

I had forgotten that Antonia Fraser had written a memoir of her life with Harold Pinter. So when I opened a present from our neighbours at Christmas and found Must You Go, I was both surprised and delighted. It is actually a wonderful story of their thirty three years together. What started as an affair in 1975 became a marriage which is described as a wonderful love story until Harold's death in 2008. The book is based on Antonia's diaries, and these are quoted verbatim with occasional recollections to fill in the gaps. Harold was already 44 when they met, and Antonia two years younger. They both had children from their first marriages. So Harold was in his prime as a playwright, and his fame was spreading. I had not realised that he also directed many plays by other writers and wrote many film screenplays including "The Servant", "The Go-Between", "The French Lieutenant's Woman" and "The Handmaid's Tale". Antonia was also a highly regarded historian and her biographies of Mary Queen of Scots and others were best sellers. So they obviously moved in theatrical and  literary circles, and their encounters such eminent figures as Samuel Beckett (who I had not realised also directed plays) are amazing. Melvyn Bragg gives a dinner at The Garrick Cub where Harold meets David Cornwell (John Le Carre), my favourite modern playwright and novelist. Harold also met Alun Owen (see Memories of Mum and Dad). The later years are not so enjoyable a read, from when Harold is diagnosed with cancer of the oesophagus in 2001. Although he recovers, he has medical problems from then on, and Antonia does not spare us the detail. But they still enjoy some happy times together, the celebration after Harold's award of the Nobel Prize is a highlight of the whole book. I was enthralled throughout.

Lets Go Somewhere

I'm starting a series of occasional recollections from my early life, and this is the first. When I was about six or seven, I can remember listening to a show on the radio on a Saturday evening called "In Town Tonight". The highlight was a live outside broadcast where Brian Johnston (the cricket commentator) presented "Let's Go Somewhere" between 1948 and 1952. These were all challenging events, and normally ended with Brian screaming at the top of his voice. Not surprising when they included being alone in The Chamber of Horrors, riding a circus horse, laying in a pit as a train went over, being saved from sea by helicopter and being attacked by a police dog. No wonder they made an impression.

The Oscars

Just like last year, when "The King's Speech" swept the board with best film, director and actor, so "The Artist" triumphed in this year's Oscars in the same three categories. (Thank goodness it didn't win best screenplay as it did at the BAFTA's). If it was left to me, "The Artist" would have never been nominated for a single award, and last year I didn't rate "The King's Speech" as a winner in any category.

None of this year's movies actually stood out above the rest. The top ones I went to see were just good: "Win Win", "Larry Crowne", "The Help", "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo", "The Skin I Live In", "We Need To Talk About Kevin", "Hugo", "Margin Call" and "Drive". I missed "Moneyball", Beginners", "The Tree of Life" etc, but here are my selections:

Best Film: Margin Call.   (I went for the movie with the best original screenplay, for which this film was nominated.  "Midnight in Paris" won the Oscar, but only because it was Woody Allen).

Best Director: David Fincher for The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo (far better than his "Social Network"). Closely followed by Nicolas Winding Refn for "Drive".

Best Actor: Ryan Gosling for Drive. (Nearly Tom Hanks for "Larry Crowne").

Best Actress: Tilda Swinton for We Need To Talk About Kevin. (By miles).

Best Supporting Actor: Jeremy Irons for Margin Call. (He was surprisingly superb). Closely followed by Mark Strong for "Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy".

Best Supporting Actress: Jessica Chastain for The Help. (Demi Moore was also brilliant in "Margin Call").

Best Film in a Foriegn Language: The Skin I Live In.

Songs from "Call the Midwife" - Series 1 and The Christmas Special 2012

(Song Listing for Series 2 on post of  21st January 2013, the Christmas Special 2013 on post of 31st December 2013 and Series 3 on post of 20th January 2014)

Listening again to the song "Little Darlin'" from Episode 6 of "Call the Midwife", I wanted to see if there were any other such classics from the series. There is no list of songs from the series anywhere on the Internet, and the BBC failed to acknowledge them in the credits at the end of each episode. And I'm one of those people who stay in my seat at the cinema, waiting for the list of songs at the end of the credits. So that is why I decided to try and list them all here.
Thanks to the "Call the Midwife" Facebook page and their link to the Amazon list on the double CD, I can now reveal all the artists as well as the songs. The CD is not episode by episode, so here they are.

Episode 1
"Que Sera Sera" by Doris Day with Frank Devol and his orchestra. It was good to hear Doris Day again. I have to admit I did have one her albums a long, long time ago.

"Stranger in Paradise" by The Four Aces. Someone likes this group. They were there again on Christmas Day.

Episode 2
"Embraceable You" by The Solitaires.

"You Belong To Me" by The Duprees.

"Love is a Many Splendored Thing" by The Four Aces. Here they are again.

Episode 3
"Magic Moments" by Perry Como and the Ray Charles Singers. My mum loved Perry Como. She never missed any of his TV shows.

"You're Just in Love (I Wonder Why)" by Perry Como.

Episode 4
"Lollipop" by The Chordettes. Thanks to Anonymous (10th November) and Marie for spotting my omission.

"Next Time You See Me" by Junior Parker.

"Love Me Forever" beautifully sung by Eydie Gorme.

"Ram Bunk Shush" by Bill Doggett. Thanks to Iain Cooke for letting me know.

Episode 5
"Someone to Watch over Me" by Blossom Dearie.

"Who needs you" by The Four Lads.

"Meet me on the Corner" by Max Bygraves. I had missed this, so thanks again to Iain.

"Good Golly" by Johnny Otis. Ditto.

Episode 6
"Little Darlin" by The Diamonds. My favourite and in my opinion there is nothing that compares with this Maurice Williams composition.

"Hot Diggity (Dog Ziggity Boom)" by Perry Como. I know, what a title, but Perry sings it well.

"Why Do Fools Fall In Love" by Frankie Lymon and The Teenagers.

So that is the list. I had to trawl through the episodes on iplayer (too much time on my hands), so I may have missed something along the way. Was it worth it? As it turns out, I guess it was.

The Christmas Special included the following songs:

"Walk Hand In Hand" by Andy Williams
"Oh Holy Night" by The Four Aces
"Christmas Story" by Doris Day (thanks to Anonymous)

The double CD contains lots more songs, which I guess will be featured in the second series.

The Ides of March, Chronicle and The Woman in Black

I missed "The Ides of March" first time round, another film that avoided Aylesbury. So I had to wait until last weeks single showing on Wednesday morning's Senior Screen. A packed audience as usual, and with a long queue for tickets, I only just made the start. In the end, a pretty decent political thriller from director George Clooney, who also stars as the presidential candidate in a typically fraught (and topical) nomination campaign. Ryan Gosling is his usual proficient self in the leading role as the cool, dynamic aide. His scenes with Philip Seymour Hoffman (up for the supporting actor Oscar) and his counterpart on the opposing side Paul Giamatti, crackle convincingly. The main flaw for me was the introduction of the female intern, well played by Evan Rachel Wood, as the catalyst for the final act. That was not convincing.

I was equally surprised and thrilled with "Chronicle" as all the critics seemed to be. An unattractive sounding movie where three teenagers acquire superhuman powers, turns out to be a witty and poignant take on coming of age for three very different boys. The use of "found" video footage similar to films like "Cloverfield" works well, as the outsider played by Dane DeHann, captures their antics on his new camera. Mike Landis has used his small budget superbly, and the sharp editing keeps us interested all the way to the inevitable climax.

I was almost put off going to see "The Woman in Black" as it had Daniel Radcliffe in the lead role. Whilst his acting still teeters on the edge of wooden, his presence in nearly every scene is not as bad as I had predicted. He looks, and acts,  like a young father who has lost his wife, and for much of the time he is on his own. His movement and reactions are OK. He is lucky that co-star Ciaran Hinds is on top form (not always the case) and their relationship is almost the best thing about the movie. Fortunately, the spooky scenes in the old mansion are never too long, and boy are they spooky. It's quite clever how the music fades and we are left in silence, that is apart from the noises in the house. James Watkins and writer Jane Goldman have obviously had to adapt the book by Susan Hill to make something that suits the cinema, and overall this is quite successful. The biggest compliment I can give is that I have ordered the book to read now I have seen the movie. I cannot remember having done that before.

'Tis Pity She's a Whore

The threat of snow later in the evening on Thursday did not deter me from driving to Oxford to see a seventeenth century tragedy by John Ford that I knew nothing about. But I had heard of the company, Cheek By Jowl, who stage mainly modern, and always very physical, versions of classics including Shakespeare. The play has quite a nasty plot, full of incest, violence and murder. And in this production, the women come off worst. The survival of the men (this adaptation ends before they get their come uppance) turns this version into a powerful heartfelt cry against the repression of women. This is reinforced by the dynamic staging where most of the actors are on the stage for many of the scenes. Voyeurism comes to mind.

Director Declan Donnellan (who co-founded Cheek By Jowl with Nick Ormerod in 1981) has brilliantly choreographed the action and the actors have risen to the challenge. There is a superb performance from lead actress Lydia Wilson as Annabella. She is definitely one to watch. I also thought that Laurence Spellman as Vasques was good as a menacing villain, but the whole cast shone.

Doo-wop on Call The Midwife

For me, the best thing about "Call the Midwife" is the songs. I cannot find a list on the Internet, so really I should trawl the episodes and make my own. Or perhaps not. However, the final episode on Sunday evening did contain a real blast from the past. "Little Darlin" is a terrific song and a big hit from 1957 by The Diamonds. However it was originally recorded the same year by The Gladiolas (photo above) whose leader, Maurice Williams, wrote the song. When you compare the two versions on YouTube, you can understand why The Diamonds had the bigger hit. Maurice should have got himself a better producer.

Memories of Holidays with Mum and Dad

I can just about remember our holiday at Broadstairs in Kent, where we stayed at a B&B, or was it a small hotel? The photo below may have been from there. I have no idea of the identity of the mystery woman.

At Borth in Wales, we stayed in a caravan. But the holiday I best remeber was that at Sandown on The Isle of Wight. The beaches, the strolls after dinner with a knickerbockerglory or something similar at our regular ice cream parlor, and even the lightning display over Shanklin one evening. There was a great boating lake where we used to paddle our canoes.

Memories of Visits to Nanan

Mum, Nanan and Harry Frost

On my posting of 4th February 2011, I wrote something about the visits that John  and I made in the summer holidays to Mum's mother Edith Leather, or as she was then Edith Frost. We never knew Mum's father Ralph Leather, and she never talked about him. Mum would take us to St Pancras Station and put us on the train to Rotherham in the care of the guard. We were probably around nine or ten years old at the time. We would have a packed lunch on the train, and books to read for the journey. Nanan would meet us at Rotherham station and take us on the bus to Wordsworth Drive.

I have many great memories of holidays there, apart from sharing the double bed with John, and the loud ticking of the clock while we were trying to get to sleep. This must have been Nanan's bed, so where she and Grandad Frost slept, I have no idea. The house at 58 Wordsworth Drive was already pretty crowded. Nanan's two sons (our uncles Donald and Geoff) and Grandad Frost's son Doug were working shifts at the big steelworks at Tinsley, although Donald must have got married at some point as it may only have been Geoff there later.

I can remember when we first stayed there, the toilet was outside in a shed. (well, it was a council house). The toilet paper was old newspaper torn into bits and hung on a nail. But later, the council installed an indoor toilet which must have been great for the family.

Nanan was extremely generous, given she was not that well off, and we had lots of treats. Always on the day after we arrived, she would take us on the bus to town where, in Woolworth's, we could choose something for the holiday. There was a big radiogram in the living room. The only records I can remember were LP's of Mario Lanza and Bill Hayley's Rock Around The Clock, and a few singles including Rock Island Line by Lonnie Donegan which we were allowed to play constantly: see posting 15th October 2009.

Across the road from her house was Herringthorpe Playing Fields. It was here we would spend a lot of our time playing football and cricket, often with other boys. One time the footballers from Rotherham United were in pre-season training, and we were able to get some autographs. At the far end of the fields was a cricket pavilion and changing rooms. Behind that there were pens where donkeys were kept. They were there during the summer to give rides to children in the parks. In the mornings, before breakfast, John and I would walk across with something to feed them.

Our occasional visits to the nearby fish and chip shop were very special, we had nothing like that at home. In the evening, a small bag of chips with salt and vinegar was a sheer delight. I have some vague memories of Clifton Park. Our visits to Nanan sometimes coincided with a week of events there. A motor cycle stunt team, some show jumping, and motor cycle grass track racing that would deafen our ears. There must have been others that I cannot remember.

I have also mentioned on previous postings visits to Nana's sister, Mum's Auntie Nellie, and the Ashes Test Match. What memories.

The Artist, Haywire and The Descendants

Would I ever normally go to see a silent, black and white movie at the cinema? No. So it was only because of the rave reviews that I went to see "The Artist". Also, apparently, the music was supposed to be good. What can I say. It was OK, but I was not that impressed.  It was more that it had novelty value than it was an engaging experience. It started off  OK, and the final scenes quite reasonable, but the middle section was really boring. And the music was very ordinary. So not a film I could recommend.

I was glad to get back to a mainstream action movie. "Haywire" is pretty forgettable, but at the time it had it's moments. Steven Soderbergh keeps up a fast pace in this "agent gone off the radar" thriller, although it is the back story to why this has happened that takes up most of the film. There are maybe just too many fight scenes, but they are mainly mercifully short. And the way the music stops to leave us with the sounds of battle is quite amazing. Newcomer Gina Carano, picked for her martial arts experience, but not for her acting, just about holds things together without too much embarrassment. The location photography is excellent, Barcelona and especially the chase around Dublin. Reasonably good fun.

I had high hopes for "The Descendants", and mainly it lived up to them. A family drama set in Hawaii would always be worth watching, and there was just enough drama to keep me interested. George Clooney is obviously a candidate for best actor, and I guess that in other hands, his pivotal role might have been too much. There was just a sense that here was George making a statement with a role quite different from his usual choices of the suave hero. But for me, it is the rest of the cast that outshine the star. Amara Miller and Shailene Woodley as the two daughters are great. Alexander Payne has created something that is moving and beautiful to look at. The dialogue sometimes falters, but overall, it delivers an engaging movie. Just a shame about the Hawaiian themed music, that was a move too far.

More Memories of Dad

Uncle John and Dad in The Peak District

When we were young, Dad would tell us many stories of what happened to him in the war, often at bathtime. Shame we didn't write them down, some were hilarious. His officer training in Dunbar was a favourite. He also used to recite comic monologues made famous by Stanley Holloway in the thirties and forties. Many were written by Marriot Edgar including "Albert and the Lion". I can also remember "Sam, Sam Pick Oop Tha'Musket", "Gunner Joe" and "Uppards". Dad presented these recitations at the odd event.

There were also poems in his repertoire such as "Disobedience" (James James Morrison Morrison Weatherby George Dupree, took great care of his mother though he was only three etc etc. See http://ingeb.org/songs. "Ann Jupp" was another:

Ann Jupp's a little girl I know, she isn't very nice, 'cos everything I say I've done - she's always done it twice.
An' everything I say I've got, she's got - an' more, you see. I've seven uncles - she's got twelve, an' three more aunts than me.
We both c'llect tickets from the trams, an' her lot's more than mine. She's got more steps to her front door - I've eight, an' she's got nine.
We scrambled through a holly-bush, an' Ann got scratched to-day, an' I got scratched. "I'm scratched the most!" Of course I heard her say.
An' scratches hurt...but I don't care, 'cos now we've counted up, an' she's got six, an' I've got ten...I've four more than Ann Jupp!

Dad also read to us from books such as "The Wind in the Willows" and "Just So Stories", my favourite from the latter being "The Cat That Walked By Himself" ("....and all places are alike to me"). He was a brilliant storyteller.

He had lots of sayings, some of which came from the army:

"Steady the Buffs"
"Let the dog see the rabbit"
"The muscles on his brawny arms stood out like sparrow's kneecaps"
"It's not the cough that carries you off, it's the coffin they carry you off in"
"No mon, no fun, your son ........... How sad, too bad, your Dad"

Dad had a terrible laugh. In fact Mum would be worried about taking him to anything that might be at all funny, as Dad would be a total embarrassment. He just could not control his laughing. I can remember at home, if someone found something funny, the others would join in and we would all be in hysterics for ages.

For some reason, Dad knew the biggest star of the circus, Coco the Clown. I think we met him one time, but where or when I have no idea. Dad could never go to the circus as he suffered from asthma. He was allergic to horses. He also drank his tea when it was nearly cold. Very strange.

When he was young, Dad followed Sheffield United, going to away games as well as those at home. I know he played cricket as a young man. He obviously followed Yorkshire in the County Championship, although he often mentioned that he might not have qualified to play for the county as their rules meant you had to have been "born in the historic boundary" and his birthplace of Dore was then in Derbyshire. (The rule has been changed to allow those to play who have been educated in the county. Michael Vaughn only qualified through this change). I remember a day when we went to Bramall Lane to see Yorkshire play, long before the ground became football only.

As well as being a fan of all sports, Dad particularly liked boxing. He would be up in the middle of the night to listen to a world title bout from America on the radio. He took us once to the ABA Championships at the Royal Albert Hall, possibly tickets from a customer? During the last years of his life, when he and Margaret had moved to Bradway, he took me to see the World Snooker Championships at The Crucible in Sheffield.

More Memories of Mum

Mum had her hands full with three boys. When we were older, she did go back to her comptometer operator job for a while. She was a great cook, possibly the best maker of Yorkshire puddings ever, even better than her mother, and that is saying something. Among her most memorable dishes were lemon meringue pie, bread and butter pudding, blackberry and apple pie (after we had gone blackberry picking around Barnes Common) and those Sunday roasts. But she hated housework, so didn't do much according to her sister Iris. But we never noticed.

She read a lot of books and listened to the radio. She never missed Alistair Cook's "Letter from America" or the "Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols" at Christmas. I think she also listened to "The Archers". She wrote letters, some to a close friend who emigrated to New Zealand.

Mum's favourite television programmes included Wagon Train and later Rawhide starring her favourite actor, a young Clint Eastwood as Rowdy Yates. She would watch any good detective drama such as Maigret. She only watched the BBC, believing for years that it was all "tripe" on ITV. Mum loved to watch sport almost as much as Dad, snooker's Pot Black was a favourite, even showjumping when that was on.

The only time Mum was really emotional with me was when I bought my first car in 1966. When I drove to Kenilworth for the first time, she was obviously so worried about me having driven there, that as soon as I arrived, she threw her arms around me, something I had never experienced before.

Mum died far too young, she was only 55 when she died at Warwick Hospital on 24th January 1979. She had contracted leukaemia and despite all the usual treatments, the remissions didn't last. When we lived in Braintree, I remember she went into hospital for an operation. I think that was on her thyroid which I think was treated when she was a young woman. I was staying with Dad on the day before she died and went with him to visit Mum in the evening. It was early next morning that I heard him take the devastating call from the hospital.

Mum was great with her grandchildren, to which my daughter Zoe can testify. It was such a shame she was not with us longer.

Memories of My Life With Mum and Dad

They met at a dance. Dad must have been stationed at Rotherham in 1942/3. It was probably not a long engagement. Mum and Dad were married in the Parish Church in Rotherham on 7th December 1943. By this time Dad had already been commissioned as the marriage certificate gives his occupation as "Officer, HM Army". He was 26 and Mum 20 years old. The witnesses were Dad's brother James (who was Best Man) and Mum's father Ralph Askew who gave her away.

It was a foggy day. The photographer took this picture of Mum in her wedding dress before she set out, but he failed to turn up at the church, hence no other photographs.

At the time of their marriage, Dad was living with his parents at 88 Ashdell Road, Sheffield, and Mum gave her address as 21 Fraser Road, Rotherham. This was because her parent's home at 58 Wordsworth Drive was outside the boundary of the main Parish Church where they wanted to be married. Iris said that friends and neighbours saved their ration coupons to buy the blue material for Mum's wedding dress, and that for Iris who was her bridesmaid. The necklace was probably borrowed. The reception was at Wordsworth Drive. There were just sandwiches.

They went to Scarborough for their honeymoon, just for a few days. They stayed at the Victoria Hotel that was owned by the parents of Charles Laughton. While Dad was on leave during the last year of the war, they lived at 58 Wordsworth Drive, Rotherham, the home of Mum's parents.. I was born while Dad was abroad, so he did not see me until I was a few months old.

After the war they continued to live at Wordsworth Drive. Iris remembered that after John was born, on the 9th April 1946, there were two cots in the one room occupied by Mum and Dad. (Was that the same room that John and I shared when we went to stay with Nanan in the mid nineteen fifties?) Iris said that the carpets had to be replaced from being worn by the pram.

Dad went back to work at Davy's in Sheffield. This meant a long journey by bus and tram, so it must have been so much better when at last they moved into their own home in Busheywood Road in Totley, a property belonging to Dad's family. Was this the same house called "Baulby" where Dad was born? If not the actual house, the photograph below is one very similar.

I have vague memories of Totley. Busheywood Road is on a hill, and when I was given a tricycle for a combined Christmas and birthday present when I was about four, I took it outside and, unsupervised, started pedalling...... downhill. Unfortunately I had no idea about brakes, and eventually fell off. Not an auspicious start.

I think I can remember Mum taking us to watch steam trains at the bridge in Totley. My first infant school was in the neighbouring village of Dore, although I think it was only one term. Mum and I had to walk across the fields to the school. I have an impression of being perched on a very high desk. The school is still there.

We must have regularly visited Dad's mother Edith at 88 Ashdell Road in Sheffield.

And back to Wordsworth Drive, and an early introduction to sports of all kinds.

It must have been in Totley where Dad's uniform from the army was kept in a cupboard. I did remember the feel and smell of the material, the two Lieutenant's pips on the shoulders and the row of ribbons.

Mum and Dad made their first big move in 1950, when Dad must have been offered his first position as a grocer's shop manager in the village of Alton in Staffordshire. There was also the benefit of accommodation behind the shop that is just past the pub on the left in the following picture.

The shop sold grocery and provisions. Tea came in large chests to be weighed out for the customers. And there were hams to be cooked and bacon to be sliced. There were aromas in the shop not found in the supermarkets of today.

Paul was born at home on the 18th September 1950. I remember that I was at school when I was given the news, and going into Mum's bedroom to see the new arrival. John and I went to the school in the village, St Peter's Church of England Infant's School. The teacher that I remember more than any other in all the schools I attended was Mrs Vickers. She was a great teacher, and a good friend to Mum and Dad. On one snowy day, the older children made a giant snowball and rolled it down the middle of the High Street, until it became so huge that it needed a group to push it down the hill.

On the day of the Queen's Coronation in 1953, Dad had the task of judging the best decorated house in the village. I was with him in the van as we toured the village. Did we have our first television by then? We watched the event on a tiny screen somewhere, so may well have. Alton Towers was not a theme park in those days. In fact the gardens only reopened in 1952 along with tea rooms inside the dilapidated house.

It was in 1953 when we left Alton for London. Dad had found a much better job, managing John Buckle on Kensington High Street, and what was one of the largest grocers in London. It occupied a double frontage of a building that is now occupied by Whittard and Ryman. I put an entry on my blog on 24th May 2009 about the visit I made to Kensington, and how I found John Buckle on the Internet as being 1 Newland Terrace, now part of Kensington High Street.

17th March 2015. I changed the photo below as John Buckle is not now Whittard and Ryman. It is actually now Trailfinders, the shop to the left of the white van. How do I know? It was an email from Graham Carruthers (who works at Trailfinders) that drew my attention to a website: http://londonist.com/2011/08/video-driving-round-london-in-the-1950s.php. At 1minute 45seconds  and 4 minutes you can see quite clearly the John Buckle shop. Thanks Graham.

Just after we arrived in London when I was eight years old, my last school in Alton, Staffs, there had been a collection for one of Princess Margaret's charities. Each school had been invited to send along one pupil to present their collection. So as we were already living in London, my old school thought I might like to go. The main memory from that day is queuing for what seemed like hours in the bowels of the Royal Albert Hall, waiting for my turn and then suddenly bursting into the dazzling light to shake hands with the Princess and hand over the envelope.


It then must have been a few years later that Dad took my bother John and me there to see the London Championship Finals for the ABA. Dad always loved his boxing. He would get up in the middle of the night to listen to world title fights from the USA.

I know it was summer when we moved to London as John and I started school in the September. I was eight, John seven and Paul coming up three. We lived at 5a Napier Road, above a shop that was also owned by John Buckle, now a Londis.

Our flat was extremely basic by today's standards, and seems to be no longer habitable. An open fire in the living room and a paraffin heater in the kitchen was the only heating, although I guess some heat came from the shop below. But the bedrooms were freezing in the winter. (26/08/14 - A passage in The Goldfinch reminded me of the many times we had ice on the INSIDE of the windows). I guess that today it would be a highly desirable address if it could be renovated. I remember there was a balcony at the back, but we never went on it. We did have our own front door, the one in the photo below. Straight onto a staircase that took us up to the flat.

Dad worked long hours at the shop, although he did have off Thursday afternoons (early closing) and Saturday afternoons. We hardly saw him in the weeks leading up to Christmas as he was packing hampers and delivering orders to the wealthy clientele in Kensington and Holland Park who made up many of his customers. They included may stars of the theatre and films. Ann Todd was a famous actress in her day, and John and I even did "Bob-a-Job" at her house. Dad was great at his job. He was now coming up to forty years of age, and his private school and officer background gave him that air of respectability and service that endeared him to customers and staff alike. He was just a really nice man.

John and I started at Beaufort House Junior School in Fulham in September 1953. I was there for three years before taking my eleven plus, and John for four. We used to catch the bus at the very bottom of Kensington High Street, at the bridge over the railway at Olympia which separates Kensington and Hammersmith. The only photo I can find of the school is on Friends Reunited.  Mum and Dad were always hugely supportive of our education. When we were young they encouraged our reading, and before I took my eleven plus, arranged for coaching at home to improve my writing that was hardly legible, as there was a distinct possibility I would fail the exam as my writing could not be read.

I have vivid memories of the day we took the eleven plus. The school was shut to all those not taking the exam. So the normally packed playground was deserted and we were able to have wonderful ball games on our own. Close to the school was Telfer's Meat Pie Factory, you always knew when they were cooking the meat!

I put a posting on this Blog on 20th April 2010 about football at Beaufort House. I now remember it was a maroon jumper that Mum knitted for me when I was chosen as goalie for the school team. I also had a part in the school play. Thye first section was about the Black Death, and I had to comfort a distraught and recently widowed Delia Cummings with the words "There, there. You're upset, and I can understand it too". We also produced a school magazine, and I was interviewed at home by Jane Cotterill about our lives before we came to London. Funny how you never forget some names.

When I passed to go to grammar school, it was Mum who did the research into all the schools I might attend. Her first choice was St Clement Danes on Ducane Road near White City. This was an all boys school that was supported by the Holborn Estate Charity. Mum took me to what we thought was an interview, but it turned out to be a welcome presentation. John followed me there a year later.

The school had eight houses: Clement, Dane, Clare, Burleigh, Temple, Lincoln, Essex and Exeter. I was in the last. Our colour was black and all our teams were rubbish. There were lots of clubs after school and I can remember joining a couple but not what they were. We had exams at the end of our first term to decide where to put us in one of the four streamed classes. I went into the top class but inevitably struggled. So I went down to the next class for the following year and enjoyed being near the top. Everything was going fine academically until we started science. Physics and chemistry were like a foreign language. Thank goodness we then moved to Braintree. 

The school is no longer there. It was absorbed into the neighbouring Burlington Girls School when it became a comprehensive, and demolished a few years ago. It was the site of a new laboratory complex called Burlington Danes, and I became involved in the construction when my company, Shepherd Construction, were awarded the contract. Amazing.

Paul went to St Mary Abbots Primary School on Kensington Church Street. This meant a bus ride for Mum to take Paul to school, then one home. And the same again in the afternoons ( I can remember one set of journeys when I was off school for some reason). There is a story that on the first day they went to the wrong school, but thankfully found what was then, and still is an excellent school.

A few doors down on Napier Road lived the writer Alun Owen and his family who became good friends of Mum and Dad. I should remember Alun's wife's name, as she and Mum got on really well. Their son Jonathon was about Paul's age. Alun Owen was a budding playwrite, originally from Liverpool. Maybe that was why he was chosen to write the screenplay for the first Beatles film "A Hard Day's Night". Mum also had a friend called Ursula Wood. She lived in Barnes with her husband Peter who was an artist who worked on movie sets. Their son may have gone to school with Paul? We used to visit them on the Saturday closest to 5th November for a firework party. Peter used to set off rockets by remote control.

We were always given some money to buy our own fireworks. They were kept in a paper bag and handled so much that it was a wonder they ever went off. Mum made fantastic bonfire toffee, dark, brittle, sticky and gorgeous.

Bertram Mills Circus came to Olympia each Christmas. It was only a short walk across Holland Road to the London Underground station for Olympia where we could see the animals disembark. We went to see the circus one year, but it was a tour of where they kept the elephants etc that I always remember.

My brothers and I each had a comic delivered every week. I had the Eagle, John the Swift and Paul the Robin. I loved the Eagle. At Christmas I would be given the Eagle Annual, and I would disappear behind the sofa to read the latest Dan Dare and PC 49 adventures.

Dad bought his first car while we lived in London, I think it was an old black Austin. I don't think that it lasted that long, and we were back to the van. Auntie Molly remembered that when she and Uncle John came to visit, Dad would take them out for a tour of London. They had no money for any of the attractions, but still enjoyed the sights. Kensington High Street was a spectacular road. The three big department stores stood next to each other: Barkers, Derry and Toms and Pontings.

We had lots of great days out. The photo below is of London Airport (now Heathrow) with the solitary Queen's Building in the background.

Our favourite places were all short bus rides away. Kensington Gardens (where we used to sail our toy yachts on the Round Pond) and Barnes Common (great for blackberry picking in late summer) on Sunday mornings (while Mum stayed home to cook a wonderful roast dinner). Occasionally in the summer, we would go into central London. Notice how deserted is Trafalgar Square on such a nice day.

Sundays were special. With dinner at 1pm, we would listed to "The Billy Cotton Bandshow" on the radio, followed by "The Navy Lark". In the afternoon we could walk to nearby Holland Park. When we were old enough to venture out on our own, it was probably Holland Park where John and I would go on our own. The area used for ball games is still there. Where below there is now a marquee, there used to be cricket nets, and during the summer holidays, we could take a bat and ball and do some practise.

John and I joined the 37th Kensington Cub Pack. Dad was the manager for their football team in which John and I both played. On Saturday lunchtime we would arrive at his shop, just as it was closing. Dad would find the poles we used as goal posts and we would catch the bus to Hyde Park. It was a short walk across to Buck Hill where a surprising number of games between Kensington cub packs would take place. Our spot was always the same.

I was amazed when I visited London in 2009, how little had changed to this isolated part of Hyde Park. Stuck away from the popular areas, it is still the same scruffy grassland with a few trees scattered about. There is more about cub football on the 20th April 2010 posting.

Dad had two great aunts who lived in Esher. They were Kate and Isobel Hoyland (see posting 19th October 2011). Their father was Charles Hoyland (1829 - 1905), a wealthy brush manufacturer in Sheffield. The sisters, both spinsters, had independent means, and probably had never had to work. They were in their eighties when we were in London, and every year around Christmas, they treated us to tea and a show in London. They were magical events. John and Paul can remember us visiting them in Esher, but I cannot recall that. Paul said that he could remember a pond where a Heron had taken all the fish.

In the summer of 1959, we moved out of London. Maybe it was time to leave the city. The first supermarket was opening on Kensington High Street and a new era for selling groceries had begun. Dad had found a job with Budgens, first managing a shop in Chelmsford, then in Colchester and finally Bishops Stortford. He was also involved with the conversion of some of their stores to supermarkets.

The company provided a flat over their shop in the centre of Braintree. So again we were in accommodation provided by Dad's company. First behind the shop in Alton, then the flat above the shop in London and then this one in Braintree. There was a yard at the back, where we sometimes played. There was a time when we were particularly noisy. It was the only time I ever heard Dad shout at us to be quiet as Mum was ill.

We cannot have been in the flat that long, as Mum and Dad bought their first house at 49 London Road in Braintree. It was a long narrow semi detached house, with a long narrow garden and lawns at the front.

The house had a big front room that was never used, although just before I left home it was done up. It had a slight musty but not unpleasant smell. In that last summer I can remember playing records there and wondering what my first job would be like. On the other side of the main stairs were a living room, dining room and kitchen. John and I were to share one large bedroom, but preferring a room of my own (for the first time), I took the the tiny back bedroom that was reached by some very narrow back stairs that led from the dining room. These were probably for a live in housekeeper who would have their own access to this end of the house.

John and I attended Braintree County High School. I had the option of attending King Edward V1 Grammar School for Boys in Chelmsford, as the top class of the three in Braintree was full. But not wanting to go on the bus every day, I chose the local mixed grammar instead. Looking back, I would probably have done much better academically at Chelmsford. But I would have missed out playing for the school at football, cricket and basketball. I scraped through five of my seven "O" levels, just enough to get me into the sixth form. But here my concentration was never good enough. How I managed three "A" levels (English, History and Geography) is anyone's guess. Again the grades were poor so, fortunately, they were not good enough for the offer of a place at Hull to study economics. But just good enough, fortunately, for my offer from George Wimpey for a place on their training scheme. And those wonderful years in London and Brighton. 

We had our first bikes in Braintree. My first one was an old second hand affair with no gears. I don't think it lasted too long and the next one, though again second hand, had three gears and did me very well. We went everywhere on our bikes, no helmets in those days - but the roads were much safer. It gave us so much more independence. Mine came in particularly useful for my paper round on weekday and Saturday mornings (see posting 8th January 2010) and for getting to see Crittall Athletic (now Braintree Town) play football at Cressing Road. Also to the open air swimming pool, where we had a season ticket one summer. That's John at the front.

There is a separate post on 4 February 2015 about the jobs I had at school. During my last year in the sixth form, on Saturday evenings I used to go to Dunmow Jazz Club. I can remember tasting my first lager and lime in the pub before walking across to the packed village hall. There is a piece on the National Jazz Archive about Derek Watson  who ran the club. He mentions that they ran coaches from Braintree so that must have been how I got there. All the top bands played there: Chris Barber, Acker Bilk, Humphrey Littleton,  The Dutch Swing College Band, Terry Lightfoot and of course that memorable night for Kenny Ball. (See post 13th November 2020).

My story of life with Mum and Dad ends here. I left home to work for George Wimpey in Hammersmith in September 1963. Soon after, Mum and Dad moved to Kenilworth in Warwickshire. Dad took a job managing a shop in Stivichall, a very nice suburb of Coventry. Eventually Dad came to own the shop when he was given the opportunity following the company's sale of all of their smaller stores. He did very well out of the deal, as he knew it was a little goldmine. I guess, as a result, this was the time that Mum and Dad were at their most prosperous, especially with John and I having left home. They were able to indulge their love of the theatre and attended many plays at The Royal Shakespeare Theatre in Stratford. They also went on foreign holidays for the first time. Their second house in Kenilworth was at Clarendon Road.

There is one memory that stands out after I first left home. The first time I visited after Mum and Dad had moved to Kenilworth, I remember Dad picking me up from Coventry station in a (second hand) Singer Gazelle, an upmarket version of the Hillman Minx. It seemed a highly luxurious car at the time. They had come a long way from the hard times of the forties and fifties.