Stories Of London

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My father was born on the 27th February in 1908. For some unknown reason, I have often got his birthdate wrong. This led to my having had to ask for changes to his memorial stone once he has passed. Firstly, for the day, and then on two occasions, the year! I have no explanation for this confusion on my part. He was born in Dulwich in South London, which was part of the Borough of Camberwell.

Dulwich – most famous for the presence of the school, Dulwich Collage (Top Left);
Top Right: Christ Church; Bottom Left: Dulwich Picture Gallery; Bottom Right: Dulwich Library

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Later, at some unknown time, the family moved to a house on Albany Road also in the Borough of Camberwell and close to The Green.

Albany Road
Top Right: My Father lived in one of these houses; Bottom: Albany Road School,
which My Father most likely attended; Bottom Left: Entrance for Infants & Girls; Right: the School

Camberwell Green, once the heart of the Borough

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I do not know the names of my father’s parents, but according to my mother, they were very nice and patient people. My father’s mother had been a Trapeze Artist prior to her marriage and was said to be very small when young. It is also said that she wore a size 2 shoe, which I learned is tiny. She must have been an interesting woman and had travelled much of the world with the Circus. Unfortunately, beyond that I know nothing of her travels.

Trapeze Artists

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Evidently, his parent’s working history had not interested my father, as he never told me much about their work or about them for that matter! The only family member that he ever spoke of at length was his Uncle Ted. Uncle Ted was apparently severe and demanded allowed no talking by children at the dining table when they came to visit. My father said that he was a very impatient man and prone to anger. He said that he had once reached for a slice of bread at the table only to have his uncle dig a fork into his hand. Apparently this was something that he wasn’t supposed to do!

Once I was older and whenever I annoyed my father, he would tell me that I resembled his Uncle Ted. I would reply that he must have been a good-natured and kind-hearted soul! This would cause him to grunt! For some reason, I am still amused to be likened to this relative!

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Young Edwardians – When I see photographs of such boys, I wonder how many were killed in wars

My father had a younger brother named Jack, or Jackie, as he was normally called. He died at a young age. I believe, but am not certain of the cause, however, my mother believed that he was killed in a road accident. I remember seeing a photograph of him when he was very young. He had long curls and was photographed standing on a wooden chair. This photograph, sadly, was lost when we moved home on one occasion. My mother said that my father did not like to talk about Jackie and she told me not to ask him any questions about his brother.

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My grandfather was in the Printing Trade and employed as a Typesetter in one of the National Newspapers in Fleet Street. Unfortunately, beyond that, I know no more of his working routine.

Fleet Street, erstwhile street of Newspapers
Left: Top, The Daily Express Building; Middle, The Daily Telegraph Building & Mersey House (former London Office of The Liverpool Daily Post & The Liverpool Echo;
Bottom: The Scotsman (former London Office of the Newspaper);
Right: Top, Fleet Street, 1906; Bottom, Fleet Street SignTypesetting

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My grandmother died tragically when my father was about twelve years old. She never drank alcoholic drinks, however, while attending a function, she was continually pressed to do so. Seemingly, she became instantly addicted and appeared to be unable to metabolise the alcohol causing her to quickly fall into a coma. She died soon after.

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Some time following the death of his wife, my grandfather married a widowed lady with three daughters, each younger than my father. According to my mother, she was also a nice lady, although her daughters proved to be less so. I believe that the middle daughter had a deformity, which resulted in her living the majority of her life in a Home for the Infirmed. My mother met my father’s half-sisters on a couple of occasions and said that they each consumed vast quantities of alcohol and were not especially warm towards my father despite his buying them their drinks and helping to raise them.

Whether my father was happy with these new additions to the family is unknown. He apparently proved very helpful to his stepmother, but if he did not receive the praise that he felt he merited, he would become non-too-pleased. My mother told me of such an incident when my father had cleaned his parents’ parlor while they were away. Apparently, after their return, his stepmother failed to offer him sufficient thanks for his good work. This caused him to fly into a rage resulting in his smashing much of the room …….. rather like the effect a Tornado might have! I can well believe this story, as I have personally been present when he suffered a rage!

Top: A Tornado; Bottom: Smashed Objects

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My father seemed to me to be very much a loner. He apparently enjoyed the company of certain people, but my mother and I were never made part of his life with them. My mother said that these so-friends were drinking companions and were the type to leach from others.

I remember meeting one of his friends when I, on a rare occasion, was going to the shops with him. She was a woman of about his age who was very shabbily dressed in clothes that appeared to be dirty and in need of repair. She had a cigarette hanging from her mouth and coughed a great deal. I noticed that she had poor dentition and wore no make-up. She had gray hair that was swept back and badly in need of a hairdresser. He seemed to know the woman well, as they greeted each other with a certain affection. She opened their conversation by asking him about his recent doctor’s appointment and seemed to be far too familiar with his medical issues!

They chatted away while I stood there, as an on-looker and ignored by both. I was very upset that he did not introduce me to the woman even though she was someone that I would normally associate with (call me a snob, if you wish). Eventually, I introduced myself and got little acknowledgement from his friend, which caused me to excuse myself and make my way home.

When I arrived home, my mother asked me why I looked so annoyed. I told her what had happened. She said that she had been treated in the same manner a number of times and said that I was sure not to have missed much not getting to know this woman, as she was most likely one of his drinking companions.

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As I said earlier, my father did not enjoy school and spent much of his time either looking out of the window or else being sent to the Headmaster’s Office for inattention. He admitted that often he was sent to the Headmaster’s Office for inattention.  Apparently, he generally took this opportunity to walk out the school and not return that day, preferring to go to the park or, if he had money, hire a bicycle and explore the area and environs. More of his adventures may be found at How To Make a Sick Kid Laugh.

Street Football

Apparently, my father enjoyed playing football and woodwork classes, but nothing else. Often his parents were informed of his inability to work hard at school, but their complaints made no difference to him and he left school at the age of fifteen without really knowing how to read. He said that he taught himself to read later, although his reading skills were never great, he was able to read a newspaper. He was able to write, and had good handwriting, but his vocabulary and sentence construction skills were poor.

I had great sympathy for him when it came to reading, vocabulary and sentence construction! When I was learning to read, I had great difficulty. My own battle with Dyslexia was not recognised as a child and my-reading-aloud skill was hampered by stuttering and my writing was plagued with poor spelling. For once, my father was sympathetic. He said that he had had similar difficulties. I felt a kinship with him over this matter.

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Penny for The Guy – Preparation for Guy Fawkes (1570-1606) Day , the Fifth of November

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Before my father left school, my grandfather arranged for him to be apprenticed with a Tailoring Establishment in Chancery Lane in the City of London.

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