Stories Of London

TALES OF MY FATHER

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I am going to introduce Miss Kingston at this time, for she played a prominent role in our lives, as will be revealed in later episodes of this Tale.

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Part of the only photograph that I have of Miss Kingston

You don’t meet people like Miss Kingston today.  Before I went to school, since my parents were busy working in the Pie ‘n’ Mash Shop for most of the day, my mother would take me each Monday to Friday mornings at about 8 a.m. to her house at 8 Paradise Row in Bethnal Green where I would remain until about 4 p.m.

Paradise Row with Paradise Gardens in the foreground

In those days, I called Miss Kingston Nanny.   I remember that our early days together were always filled, but besides going to the park and her telling me Biblical Stories, for she was a very religious lady, and occasionally going shopping, I can not remember what else we did to fill our days, but fill them we did.

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I do remember that my mother paid Miss Kingston an extra Half-Crown each week, (a large sum at that time, but a mere  twelve-and-a-half new pence in today’s money), for two piano lessons each week using her old and probably-in-need-of-tuning Upright Piano, which I have to admit that I enjoyed although we never really progressed beyond playing scales and pieces of short duration.

An Upright Piano

Head & Tail of a George V (1865-1936) Half-Crown Coin

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I can not remember much about going to the park with Miss Kingston.  I have no memory of ever running about on the grass or playing on the swings and roundabouts.   What I do remember most about going out with her was shopping on Friday mornings, if you can call our weekly excursion that, since she bought very little.  I shall never forget her buying a quarter of a pound of tomatoes at the greengrocer’s and, despite my young age, feeling somewhat embarrassed by the two or three tiny fruits that were placed in a small brown paper bag for her to carry home.

Cherry Tomatoes and A Thin Rasher of Cooked Streaky Bacon

Similar small quantities of diary and meat produce were purchased at the dairy and butcher’s.  I still have to hide my face when I recall how she once asked for one rasher of bacon in place of the usual two during a visit to the Greengrocer.  Evidently she was either on a diet or else living on a tighter budget.

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I never learned if Miss Kingston ever worked outside her home or where her money came from.  I believe now that she most likely had been a Missionary of some sort, probably in Britain, as her home showed nothing of visits abroad.  She was certainly religious, as she had a multitude of Bibles on her bookshelves in the hallway and in her front room along with other books of a religious nature together with a massive number of leaflets with religious texts printed on them strewn about her front room.  There were no curtains covering the windows of this room, which looked out onto the road, but were partly covered by a large poster displaying a religious text.  The text, John 3:16, told passers-by and those waiting at the bus stop on the far side of Cambridge Heath Road that:

For G-d so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

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Miss Kingston, Samuel, the unknown young girl and me with a group of other children

After a year or so of going to Miss Kingston’s, she evidently decided to be Nanny to other children in addition to me and soon I was learning how to play with others.  She was often aided with the large brood that she now shepherded in her front room by a boy of about 15 years of age named Samuel whom she had apparently adopted when he was a baby and was generally away at a private school.  I can not say that I ever liked Samuel, not that he was a bully, but he was never very friendly and tended to ignore us, as we did him.  Occasionally, she was aided by a young girl, whose name I can not recall and have no idea whether she was a relative or not.  Once I reached the age of five, I left the care of Miss Kingston, and her piano teaching, much to my sadness and went to school.

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A Victorian Lady with a Bonnet

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It is hard to believe that someone like Miss Kingston was ever a child or a young lady, for I only knew her when she was old ……… apparently very old, both in manner and appearance.  Miss Kingston was extremely dignified.  She was what used to be known as prim and proper.  She always wore her dark blue straw bonnet which covered her snow white hair and tided tightly under her chin by long velvet straps.  I never once saw her without this hat either in or out of doors.  Several years earlier when she was ill in bed, I visited her and saw that she was wearing it even then!  She also always wore a white starched blouse of a simple design that was very high at the neck where it was pinned with a large oval-shaped Brooch and buttoned by pearl buttons.

A Cameo Brooch

In addition, Miss Kingston always went with a small lace handkerchief tucked under the left sleeve at the wrist.  Her skirt was of thick dark blue worsted wool and went down to her ankles.  Her shoes were lace-up and dark blue with a slightly raised heel, which she said were sensible and comfortable for walking for she never took the bus or trolleybus.   She wore no ring or wristwatch and never used any make-up.

Miss Kingston’s manner was what can best be described as matter-of-fact – not exactly cold, but hardly overly warm either.  She rarely smiled, and never, at least not in my presence, laughed aloud.  Despite this, I came to realise that she was a kind person and very Christian in its strictest and best sense.

I knew very little about Miss Kingston other than she was a Christian, had never married and had adopted Samuel when he was a small child.  I do know that she had been very kind to us and had helped us in our hour of need.  But, things such as where she was born or how old she was remain a mystery to me.  After she died, I learned that she had a grandnephew, named Ernie, who came to assume responsibility of the house.  Ernie was a quiet fellow and studied at the University of London.  He lived in the basement and was charged to collect the rents each month.  I do not recall him visiting his great-aunt while I lived in her house.

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Miss Kingston died in hospital at midnight on Christmas Eve, 1955.  We learned this from her son Samuel on Christmas Day.  My mother already knew that she had died and at what time since, exactly at midnight, a large chimney pot fell from the roof and crashed down into the backyard.  My mother took this to be an Omen, foretelling her passing!  Some readers may scoff at this idea, but, as I said before, you pays your money and you make your choice ……. chacun son goût!

Although I attended Miss Kingston’s funeral, I never learned where she was buried, and so sadly, was never able to visit her grave.

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As a point of interest, the only people who shed tears at the funeral were my mother and me.

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For death is no more than a turning of over from time to eternity.

William Penn