After the holidays I went to Barkers Butts secondary modern which later merged with Coundon Court Comprehensive school. The only thing that cheered me up at the time was the fact that I would be able to start work the following October just after my 15th birthday instead of waiting until I was 18 to leave school.      

       My friends and I went down the town to Greyfriar’s Green to see the illuminations that were there that year.  It looked lovely as all the trees were lit up and there were various tableaux such as Disney and nursery rhyme characters, and the famous  ( at the time ) Guinness clock. This was an illuminated clock with animated characters. The illuminations were held for several more years but unfortunately were no longer shown after the mid 1950’s.  Jephson Gardens, in Leamington had an even larger display, usually held in October but they too faded into history.  On Christmas day, David had a crystal set radio bought for him by Uncle Frank.  It used to receive the Light Programme (now Radio 2 ) and the Home Service (Radio 4 ).  One had to wear earphones to get a reception so it was ideal for listening to in bed, late at night when everyone else was asleep.  Mum and Dad used to go to bed at about 11 o’clock.  There were two programmes that I liked listening to on Saturday night., one was “Top Score” with Cyril Stapleton and his orchestra, A programme that featured the latest popular hits,  followed by Jack Jackson’s Record Roundup which was on for an hour at 11.30.  He was the original disc jockey (D.J.).  He used to play all the latest records and started the Hit Parade which was the fore-runner to Top of the Pop’s.  At the time Guy Mitchell was the latest heart-throb with his No. 1 “One of the Roving Kind”.  This was the first of his many hits.  Other singers were Nat “king”Cole, Ted Heath and his band with Lita Rosa, Dennis Lotis and Dickie Valentine, Jo Stafford, Doris Day, Frankie Lane , Kaye Starr,  Teresa Brewer (“Music, Music, Music” and “ Silver Dollar”) and Tennessee “Ernie” Ford, “ On Top of Old Smokey”. 

A selection of singing stars who I used to listen to on David's crystal set. On the left are Guy Mitchell and Frankie Laine who died in 2007 aged 93 and was still performing!!

 Every Saturday night after getting back from the Speedway, Mum would have my favourite supper ready for me, which was spaghetti on toast with a soft boiled egg on the top, then off I would go to my bed for a couple of hours with Dave’s Crystal set.  The next day, (Sunday), we would listen to Forces Family Favourites followed by Billy Cotton’s Band Show.    I started to go dancing as well in the New Year.  My first dance was at the Rialto Casino at the Speedway Ball.  I wore a bridesmaid'’s dress that was made for me for my cousin Pearl’s wedding Mum made it out of pink crepe material. The only dances that I could do were the old time ones that we’d learned at school.  The Veleta, the Military two step and the Viennese waltz.  I had no idea how to do the quick step, foxtrot or modern waltz that were the dances of the day.  I think that I was able to join in with the Hokey Cokey , the Gay Gordons and the Palais Glide but I wasn’t exactly “Belle of the Ball” that night.  As I recall though , I really enjoyed my first grown up dance.  After that I started going to the speedway dances with the Londcaulk’s which were held in a hut in Bull’s Head Lane on Friday nights.  I still couldn’t dance but I soon learned!  In  those days the master of ceremonies in the dance hall used to announce a Ladies Privilege dance every so often during the proceedings and I took full advantage!  I asked Peter Brough for a waltz one night and after stepping on his toes a few times,  he patiently taught me how to do it.  I tried the same scam with the quickstep and the foxtrot and in a matter of a few weeks this cheeky fourteen year old became quite an accomplished dancer.  Why the man didn’t run a mile as he saw me descending on him, I’ll never know, as he was a popular nineteen year old with girlfriends of his own but he never lost his cool once.  One Friday night in March, I felt very ill indeed. I ‘d had a pain in my stomach all day.  Not bad enough to keep me from going to the dance, you understand but when I got there, it became worse.  By the time I got home, I went straight to bed and the next day, Dad got the doctor out and he sent me straight to Gulson Rd.  hospital with suspected appendicitis. They put me in the women’s ward.   I was there for almost a week before the  specialist decided that it was .  For some reason he thought that I might have pylelitis, a disease of the kidneys and I had all sorts of tests before he found out.  On the following Thursday I went down to theatre and had the operation.  I was about three hours under the anaesthetic and I understood afterwards that the surgeon had to “dig for them” as he put it.  I figured out that the reason for that was all the poking around the doctor had been doing before the operation!  I was spoilt while I was in there though as I was the youngest in the ward.  It was a bit depressing because there were quite a few old ladies.  One died  though  a couple of nights after my op., and doom and gloom spread along the ward but the five of us in the annex---two old ladies and two in their twenties---were cracking jokes to cheer ourselves up and I nearly burst my stitches from laughing at them.  I was there for a week after my operation and came out on the Friday with my stitches still in.  They had to stay in for ten days.  I had a lovely surprise when I came home, as Dad had built a two valve radio into the bottom of my bookcase which was in my bedroom and I was able to listen to the radio in my bedroom.  David’s crystal set became redundant.  I was able to receive Radio Luxembourg on it much to my delight.  This was a commercial station broadcast from Luxembourg and was very popular at the time.  Much like Mercia and the independent radio stations of today.  It had popular programmes where disc jockeys like Pete Murray played all the latest records.  All the young people tuned in to it.  There was a film on that I wanted desperately to see, at the Plaza cinema in Spon End.  Mum and Dad insisted that I wasn’t well enough to go but the film, “Annie Get Your Gun” was due to finish the following night, so I pleaded to be allowed to go to see it as my favourite film star at the time, Howard Keel, was starring in it. Mum and Dad gave in, so on Saturday afternoon, I hobbled down Evenlode Crescent.  Across the Holyhead Rd. and down through the Chain Gardens to Spon End., almost bent double with my stitches.   I really enjoyed the film and fortunately there were no ill effects from my operation.  In fact it had fortunate repercussions for me, as I was excused P.E. and games at school. I used to get sent home early.  I think it should have been about six weeks or so but I managed to stretch it out until I left in October that year. Meanwhile, when I was in hospital, my Dad had filled forms in so that I could be a guinea pig to test the new B.C.G .The inoculation against tuberculosis.  I went to Centaur Road school 9now Hearsall) with some others from our school and had the Heif test.  An injection that either made one's arm very inflamed after 24 hours, or didn't change at all. If it didn't change, you were immune to T.B.  If it got inflamed, you had to have the B.C.G. Hah!---Guess whose arm swelled I went back to to get my second injection and had a chest x-ray. The place where they did it (in my thigh), was quite poorly for a few weeks, but it cleared up and left a small scar. Thereafter. every year until I was 21, I had to go to hospital to get my chest x-rayed and another Heif test.  After that, I was told that I was immune!   Hah--tell that to the little T.B. baccillus who had the audacity to attack me in 1981!!  That story comes later.

       I don’t remember much about school for the rest of that year, as we had the summer holidays (six weeks) and I left school the following half term.  I left on October 13th 1951;   before my 15th birthday and started work at the Standard Motor Co. In the Powers Sammas Dept.  This was basically sitting at a machine and punching holes in cards in a certain order which went through a tabulator and were printed out as facts and figures.  They were the fore-runners of our computers.  It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was a job.  My wages were £2.00 a week.  It was good money because most jobs paid juniors £1.10s (£1.50).  After two weeks in the Canley office, I was transferred to the Banner Lane branch, which was at Tile Hill. 

         Much to our delight, towards Christmas, Dad decided that we could have a television set.  It was the latest edition.  A Pye model with a twelve inch screen.  This was in the days when there was only one channel and that was B.B.C. The programmes began at about five o’clock with things for the children like “Muffin the Mule”, Muffin’s final TV appearance with Annette Mills came in 1955 just days before she died aged 61. Mr Turnip and Harry Corbett who presented “Sooty”. This would be followed by the news presented by Sylvia Peters or Macdonald Hobley. The programmes then closed down until about 7 o’clock when the evening ones began .

       About two weeks before Christmas, I developed tonsillitis and I was away from work for a week.  The doctor gave me some new penicillin medicine that had not long been developed.  Our Christmas Party was held on the day we broke up from work.  I decided that I was well enough to go to it. Mum and Dad had doubts but I went anyway.  We all had to buy one present to take in so that each of us would have something.  I got a bottle of the latest nail varnish to come out.  It was white pearlised .  The girl who received it was thrilled.  It was no use buying any for myself because I chewed my nails .  On the way home from work, it was very foggy and I always got off the bus in Spon End by the Plaza and walk the rest of the way home via the Chain Gardens rather than go all the way into town and back out.  I must have caught a chill, because the next morning I was really ill.  My neck was up like a balloon and my tonsils were septic. Back to the penicillin!  Christmas day was only two days away.  I felt awful.  Roger was poorly at the same time with really bad earache.  By Christmas morning, he was in a bad way and Mum was nursing both of us but miraculously, I was well enough to go out at night when two of my friends came to invite me to a party that was going on in Southbank Rd. Mum and Dad were sceptical but they let me go anyway.  I had a wonderful time and got quite tipsy.   I can’t remember what I was drinking but when I got to bed that night it was moving up and down as if I was at sea.  That was my first serious drinking binge, although I used to have a glass of cider outside the Royal Oak  pub in Brandon sometimes on the way back from Brandon Speedway. The following morning,  Boxing day, Roger was really poorly and had to go into Gulson Rd. hospital in Sage ward.  He had a mastoid at the back of his ear and had to have an operation, which was very dangerous at the time, because it meant that it was so close to his brain.  I went to the Empire cinema in the afternoon to take my mind off it, I can’t remember the name of the film but Esther Williams and, I think, Howard Keel were in it.  I couldn’t concentrate on it though and kept praying,  “Please, God, don’t let Roger die!”   Mum took me to visit him the next day and his head was all bandaged up like an Egyptian mummy.  He wanted to come home with us but of course he couldn’t and started crying.  Mum told him that he could come home when he was better and he cried “But I am better, Mummy—I’m very better” That started me crying then but fortunately he did get well and was home for the New Year.  

         Every morning when I went to work on the bus along Broad Lane, as it drew near to Job’s lane, I would see out of the window, a new estate that was being built at Tile Hill. This was a stretch of land between Broad Lane and Tile Hill Lane that used to be Limbrick wood, where my cousin Pearl used to take me for walks in the summer.  They were to be Council houses and the first ones were occupied in January 1952. The rents were between 34/s (£1.70p) and 36/11p (£1.80p).  These provided homes for many of the people who had been bombed out and who were living in what was known as “Shanty Town”.  This was a waste ground in Little Park St., where families lived in caravans or converted buses with very bad sanitary conditions.  They regularly appeared in court for causing a health hazard but houses were in such short supply that people had to find where they could to live. Many families also lived in rented rooms as well.  Re-building was going on all over Coventry but it all took time.  There were still many scars in the City centre and a huge amount of temporary shops.  During the 1950’s, the centre of the town was very depressing but we had never known it any other way and so it didn’t bother us. It was still exciting to go “down town.”  Cross Cheaping closed to traffic in January to make way for the new Owen Owen building and the foundations for the new Cathedral were taking shape, although the architect Sir Basil Spence was still amending his plans periodically.  Many of Coventry’s streets still had courts running off them.  Although the one that my Dad had lived in as a child had long gone, (it is covered by the Ring Rd. now), they were still in abundance in Much Park St., Little Park St. and several of the old streets in the town.  These were mostly rat-infested slums by now and within a few years, would be demolished and people re-housed in the new “model”estates like Wood End, Stoke Aldermore and Tile Hill.  Estates that were being built outside the city to re-house people.  Rationing was still in force on some things as well. Meat was one of the commodities that was still rationed and in late January, the government reduced each person’s share to 1/2d worth a week which was not much at all.  Bacon ration went up though at the same time to 4 oz. per person per week.  Mum still managed to put a good meal on the table though every night when Dad and I came home from work.   Every Tuesday, she would have my favourite ready for me.  Belly draft pork rashers wrapped around sage and onion stuffing and tied in a medallion with a piece of string.  I really looked forward to this, served up with potatoes, vegetables and lovely thick gravy, as only my Mum could ever make it.           

          King George Vl died in his sleep at Sandringham. He had a lung removed a couple of months previously and it was discovered that he had cancer.  He waved goodbye to Princess Elizabeth at the airport the previous week when she flew to Africa on an official visit, standing in for him.  She was in Kenya when she became Queen Elizabeth II.  I was at work in the office when it was announced that he had passed peacefully away and we all stood for a minute’s silence.  The radio played sad music all day, as normal programmes were cancelled.  It was all rather sad as it felt like the end of an era.  In a way, I suppose it was because of the inspiration of the King and Queen, as well as the speeches of Winston Churchill that boosted the British morale during the dark days of the war and it’s aftermath. The British people and, indeed, the media held the Royal family in great respect. Even the cinemas and theatres closed for the day. 

             I was enjoying this period of my life, as I was allowed to go to proper dances and we had a couple of special balls that were held in the works canteen and Joe Loss was conducting the orchestra.  Joe was a very famous bandleader who played at the BBC and made many hit records and so to dance to his music with him playing “live” was quite something! It was at about this time that Dad bought us a new record player, a Dansette I think it was.  The top record in the charts at the time was Nat King Cole singing “Too Young”.  I bought my very first record from Hanson’s record shop.  I couldn’t get Nat singing “Too Young” so I bought a cover version of it that was recorded by a new English sensation who’s name was Jimmy Young! He of course was the favourite of the wrinklies who had a programme  on Radio 2 at lunchtime, until 2003. During this time, I had an immense crush on one of the electricians contracted to work for the Standard who was doing work outside our office.  He used to come to work on a Vincent “Black Shadow” motor bike—at that time the equivalent of a “Harley Davidson”. One Friday afternoon I was preparing to go to the ball that evening.  One of the girls in the office took me into the cloakroom during tea break and did my hair for me, having put “Dinkie” curlers in for me at lunch time when I wet my hair down with “Amami” setting lotion and I sat with my hair in curlers under a head scarf.  Mum had made me a royal blue taffeta dress and I went to the dance feeling a million dollars, hoping that Bill would be there and that I would get a chance to dance with him.  He was—and I didn’t!  He appeared with his girlfriend to whom he was eventually to be engaged and married, so I didn’t stand a chance, although I carried a torch for him for a while.  I got over him in a short time when one of my friends pointed out his brother and I transferred my affections to him.  I must say that I had about the same amount of success!  We never even got as far as talking.  I just worshipped him from afar.  At this particular time of my life, I did have this problem of falling for certain lads that were not in the slightest way interested in me and having others fall for me who I didn’t fancy in the slightest!  I would let them take me to the pictures though, as in those days the lad would pay for the girl.  Sometimes one would take me to the Hippodrome on a Sunday evening where one of the top bands was appearing.  I saw Sid Phillips—a top jazz band and a couple of times I went to see Ted Heath.  At the time, Ted was the top band.  He had three vocalists, Dennis Lotis, Lita Rosa and my favourite, Dickie Valentine!  I would have dated the Hunchback of Notre Dame if it meant that he would buy me a ticket to see Dickie!  After the show, the lad walked me home, kissed me outside the front door in the entry, make a date for during the week perhaps to take me to the pictures and nine out of ten times I didn’t turn up!  Whether I did or not would depend on a better looking lad coming along who was willing to fork out 7s.6d for a ticket to the Hippodrome the following week.  It was at about this time that Jean Owen and myself started going to the hostel dances.  There were a number of hostels built around the city at the latter end of the war.  They were used primarily to house the workers that had been sent to live in Coventry to help in the factories with the war effort.  As these workers gradually went home after the war, the hostels were used to house displaced persons (Poles, Italians, Yugoslavs and others).  There were also a number of families in them who were waiting for more permanent homes.  One of these families was the Holmes’s.  Mary became a good friend of Jean Owen and so consequently a friend of mine as well. She eventually became Mary Kirk, mother of Gail, who was to be in the same class at school as my son Bill!  Her family lived in Brooklands hostel, which was just up the road in Haynestone Rd.  A dance was held at Brooklands hostel every Sunday afternoon and Jean, Mary and myself started going.  Mum and Dad were horrified.  To go dancing on a Sunday was totally unheard of!  They came to accept it though and not only did we go on Sunday afternoons but we went to tea at Mrs. Owen’s and prepared ourselves to go to the Chase Guildhouse on Sunday nights.  Wednesday night would be Wyken hostel and of course Tuesday, Fridays and Saturdays would be “Casino” night.  Monday night there was another dance at the Brooklands and I would squeeze a film in on the odd Thursday night or Saturday afternoon.  All in all my social life was pretty busy as you can imagine!  During this period there was no particular boyfriend, although I had the odd unrequited “crush” and the usual disposable escorts to the cinema or theatre. A friend of mine who worked in the next office to me in the postal department suggested one day in the summer that I join her on holiday.  Her Grandmother lived in Littlehampton, on the South coast, near Brighton.  Of course, I had to ask Mum and Dad’s permission as I’d never been away without them before.  They duly went to meet Helen’s parents who lived in Tile Hill and permission was granted.  I was really excited.  We went during the first two weeks in August.  We had a wonderful time!  I met a sailor who I went out with for the fortnight and she went out with a lad in the R.A.F.  They took us to the fair and to the cafes to listen to the juke box and drink “frothy coffee”---Espresso coffee being the latest innovation in these establishments. They were highly popular with the youth of the day.  Every morning we went to the beach to swim and sunbathe.  The weather was perfect for the whole fortnight and I had a wonderful tan.  Unfortunately Helen had fair skin and suffered accordingly.  She had the most terrible blisters.  When we got back to Coventry, no one could understand how we had caught the sun, because everywhere else in England had the most atrocious weather!  In fact, the day we got home it came over the radio that Lynmouth and Lynton, two picturesque villages in North Devon had been devastated by horrendous floods the previous night.  The two rivers, East and West Lynn had changed their course forever and there was tremendous loss of life.  It was all quite unbelievable! On 15 and 16 August 1952, very heavy storm broke over south-west England, depositing 9 inches of rain within 24 hours on an already waterlogged Exmoor. Debris-laden floodwaters cascaded down the northern escarpment of the moor, converging upon the village of Lynmouth in North Devon. A guest at the Lyndale Hotel described the night: "From seven o'clock last night the waters rose rapidly and at nine o'clock it was just like an avalanche coming through our hotel, bringing down boulders from the hills and breaking down walls, doors and windows. Within half an hour the guests had evacuated the ground floor. In another ten minutes the second floor was covered, and then we made for the top floor where we spent the night."

Below:- The devastating aftermath of the Lynmouth floods.  See the

Lyndale Hotel in the centre of the picture on the right.

          Soon after I came back from our holiday, I had a shock.  I was being made redundant!  My boss told me that they needed to reduce the staff and as I was the last to start, I would have to go.  I suspect though that it was because I got on her nerves because I had an awful habit of sitting at my machine and whistling all day long.  I would whistle the latest popular tunes of the day to keep myself amused and stop me from being bored, notwithstanding that I was probably driving the rest of the staff mad with my constant imitation of a budgerigar!  Anyway--- that was it! I’d got the boot!  How do I tell my Mum?  While I was pondering on this problem, I realised that the best thing to do was to go and tell Dad first.  I went to his office when I finished work and told him the news.  Although Dad was strict, I could tell him my problems rather than my Mum.  He told me that he would break the news to her.  When we got home, he told her what had happened, and she laughed!  Can you believe that?  I couldn’t!  I had one week’s notice to work and during that time, I took a day off to apply for another job.  I had an interview at the Alvis in the Progress office and got the job to start the following Monday morning. This was in the days when one could leave a job on one day and begin another the following day.  Days that have long g Just after I got back from my holiday, another friend of mine named Eileen Holford, was going out with a lad who rode a motor bike and she asked me to go out one night to where they used to meet at the Casino café, this was situated in Fleet St., just at the bottom of Smithford St. It was a place where all the motor cycling youth and their girlfriends met.  I was introduced to them all and one of them, Eddie, asked me out.  I didn’t really fancy him, as he wasn’t good looking, but as he had the best motor bike out of them all, a Triumph Thunderbird, I agreed to go out with him for a ride on the following Sunday.  He took me to the Cotswolds via. Moreton-in-Marsh and Stowe-on-the-Wold, and the following week we went to Cheltenham by way of Broadway and Fish Hill.  It was very nice going out on Sundays in the autumn sunshine and I must say I did enjoy myself but Eddie and I were not meant to be a couple.  I thought he was too old for me and I wasn’t attracted to him---just his motor bike.  It was my sixteenth birthday the following Saturday and he took me to Warwick Mop, a street fair which is held in Warwick every October.  He bought me a nice powder compact from there as a present for my birthday but I finished with him the next day.  Going steady was not for me!  I soon settled in to my new job.  I had to do a bit of filing and to go around the machine shop collecting dockets from the inspectors and afterwards, type out a Progress report for each job.  I was very happy there and of course it was only just 10 minutes down the road from home, so I always clocked in on time.  I worked with a motherly lady who lived on the Keresley Rd.  She left after a few months and another lady took her place who’s husband worked in the machine shop. Mary was OK, but I much preferred motherly Irene.  Mr. Baker was my boss and he was really nice. Then there was Malcolm, a quite sophisticated young man about town who was 26 yrs. old  and kept me supplied with cigarettes when I was short of cash.  The last member of our team was Bill, a confirmed 26 year old bachelor, who was to become a very good friend to me over the next 18 months.  Bill lived by himself at Farcroft caravan estate, which was situated, off Broad Lane where Mount Nod is now.  He had travelled around quite a bit and had just come back from Wyoming.  He regaled us with wonderful stories about Yellowstone National Park.  At tea break, the Progress Chasers came in for their tea, cigarette and natter and we used to have a laugh and joke with them, or discuss the latest news.  They really were a great bunch of people and I was very happy.  I was paid my £2/00d a week wages, a10/-d improvement on my wages from the Standard.  I gave Mum £1/10s (£1.50p) for my board.  In return she fed and clothed me and Dad would slip me the odd few shillings when I was going to the dance.  My 10/-d a week pocket money stretched out all week. The chaps in the office arranged a day out at Silverstone to see the Grand Prix. I'd never been to a motor race before, but I decided I would go. Stirling Moss was driving and Mike Hawthorne won the Grand Prix for Jaguar cars.  I really enjoyed it! Unfortunately, Mike was to be killed a couple of years later in a road crash.  Stirling Moss, although having several serious crashes, is still alive to tell the tale.  Unusual for a motor racing driver of that era.  Another tragedy was to be played out in September of that year .  The jet aeroplane was a fairly new concept at the time and the “sound barrier” had just been burst about two or three years before.  John Derry, the pilot, was the first man to break the sound barrier in the U.K. There was a demonstration of this phenomena and the plane exploded just as the sound barrier was being broken and the engine and debris fell into the crowd.  One of the girls Who worked with me at my office when I was in  Canley was there that day and fortunately only had her leg broken because there were quite a number of deaths and in fact one of the girls that I had known at Barr’s Hill was killed there. http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,816970-1,00.html

          Towards Christmas, Eileen and I were in the Casino cafe one evening and her boyfriend and his friend asked us to go to Leamington to see the lights in Jephson Gardens. These were quite spectacular illuminations that they had every Christmas, as we did in Greyfriar’s Green, in Coventry.  I rode on the back of her boyfriend’s bike and she rode on his friend’s.  We didn’t wear crash helmets in those days but I certainly wished that I had one on that night!  I have never been so petrified!  He turned into Barras Lane as a bus was passing a lorry and went through the middle of them! How I got home that night in one piece I don’t know but there must have been a guardian angel on my shoulder.  His riding was absolutely crazy! Eileen ditched him a few days later and a week to the day of our outing, he was riding round the island in Norman Place Rd., when he hit a Co-op van and was killed instantly.  Thereafter, I was more particular of who’s bike I rode pillion!  There was a shop in Corporation St. called Pauline’s.  They sold ladies blouse, skirts and underwear.  Every week Eileen and I went to look in the window, where, in pride of place was a velvet blouse.  Each week would be displayed a different colour and my favourite was a lovely sky blue one.  It was way out of my reach though as it was £2/10s.  More than a week’s wages. Clothes were no longer rationed but often cost prevented us from having lots of clothes.  We had to make them last a long time. Eileen was a bit older than I was, and worked in Moore's the cake shop.  Much to my chagrin, she bought the blue blouse!  However, the following week, in its place was a beautiful magenta coloured one.  It was for eveningwear, as it had silver stars on it and was absolutely gorgeous.  It cost £3/10s! Way out of my league, until the following Friday, I got my pay packet and inside it was my Christmas bonus of two week’s wages.  Mum said that I could keep it, so off I went into town and the blouse was mine!  I’ve never been so proud of anything that I’ve bought before or since as I was when I got that blouse.  I got a black taffeta skirt that was partly lined at the hem with the same colour, from my Mum’s club.  It could have been made to match.  At the Christmas dances I felt like the belle of the ball! 

          Soon after Christmas, in January or February, the office gossip was all about a man who lived in rooms in a house in Notting Hill in London, no.10 Rillington Place, who found the bodies of two women when he removed a false wall.  We followed the story avidly, because a murder was far more sensational then than it is today.  The perpetrator more often than not found himself at the end of a rope, as hanging was at that time, the punishment for this crime.  This eventually turned out to be Reginald Halliday Christie, who killed eight women, one of them being his wife and one of them the wife of his lodger who was found guilty on Christie’s evidence eighteen months earlier, hanged for the crime and eventually pardoned when it was too late. Evans had a posthumous pardon---a fat lot of good that did him!--- but it laid the foundations of the abolition of capital punishment, a few years later.

By the time March and April came, everyone became caught up in Coronation fever.  Queen Elizabeth ll was due to be crowned on June 3^rd 1953.  The young Queen was only 27 years old and two months;  and the event captured the nation’s imagination! A new Elizabethan era!  I still kept my scrapbook of Royal pictures that were printed in the Daily Express---the paper that my Mum and Dad had delivered every morning and it was the first Royal event that was going to be televised.  Not many people had a television in those days and so there was a house full on the day.  We got up that morning to the news that Mount Everest had been ascended for the first time in history, by a party that was led by an Englishman, Sir John Hunt.  Edmund Hilary, a New Zealander along with a Himalayan; Sherpa Tensing had reached the summit on June 2^nd.  That news set the pattern for the day.  The house began to fill up by 10o’clock with neighbours and friends; we had a back room full.  Then—horror of horrors—In walked a friend of David’s with his mother whom he had invited to watch the proceedings with us!  It was a lad who, the year before, David had fixed me up with a blind date at the Hippodrome to see Ted Heath and Sid Phillips that I had not turned up for on one of the arranged dates!  To Pete’s credit, he treated me with the greatest of respect and politeness and we all spent a really memorable day.  Watching on that 12’’ screen, the Coronation was something that was so special that it cannot be described in words.  I will never forget it as long as I live, and I would imagine that would apply to anyone who was there that day. We were still all hung over from the war, with austerity and rationing but we really believed that this young girl was the answer to our prayers; and so it was at that time.  Soon after the Coronation, the last thing to be taken off ration was butter, margarine and lard.  I well remember the day because the sun was shining and in my lunch hour I went to the shop just down the road and bought a small loaf, a cucumber and a half-pound tub of Kraft margarine.  What a feast I had that lunchtime!  I thought that the margarine was the best thing that I had ever tasted! (We never tasted butter—that was for the grown-ups).  The margarine that had been available throughout the war until 1953 was known as National Margarine.  It was a cross between tallow fat and lard, with a bit of yellow colour but we were used to it.  When I tasted this new product, it was like manna from Heaven. (Now I can’t stand it!---I have to have "best butter") By now, my friend Jean Owen had got a job in the photocopying dept. in the drawing office, so we went to work together most days.  We still went dancing occasionally but by now, she was seeing more of Mary and I was seeing more of Eileen, Pam White and her friend, Pat Wale.  Pam and Pat  were great fun.  One weekend they went to Blackpool together and had a great time.  This, to my mind was very daring!  One Saturday night at the Casino, Michael Holiday, who was a famous popular singer at the time, with a few hits under his belt, appeared as a guest artist.  He chatted to Pat and they arranged to go on a date together.  This I considered was rather naughty because he was a married man.  It didn’t worry her though. There was no connection to the event but unfortunately Michael was to commit suicide some years afterwards.  I think it was because of money problems and waning popularity He did have a big hit in 1958 though just before he died, called “The Story of my Life”, but back to my story!

        One day, in late summer, One of the progress chasers, Walter, who used to come in at tea break, asked me if I would like to go to a wedding.  His landlady’s daughter was about to be married to an American soldier who at that time was based in Oxfordshire.  The men from the regiment were invited and the reception was held in Westfield House, on Radford Rd.  I agreed to go as he told me that there were not many girls who would be there and the boys would feel out of place. As soon as I got there, one of the men who’d had too much to drink, made a crude suggestion to me.  I put him in his place and sat down. I was quite upset.  A little while later, one of the boys came up to me to ask me to dance.  After the last experience, I was a little reluctant but he reassured me, telling me that he had seen what was going on and that not all G.I’S were the same.  I sensed that he was a genuine lad, and stayed in his company for the rest of the evening.  We went back to Walter’s house after the party and had a drink.  He lived in Link’s Rd., so I had quite a walk home to Coundon, however, the lad who had looked after me all evening said that he would walk me home, which he proceeded to do.  On the way home, he told me that he was engaged to a girl back home with whom he was obviously deeply in love, great disappointment to me as it happened, because by now I really fancied him! He was really good looking, with the greenest eyes that I had ever seen before or since!  He was such a genuine gentleman, that I couldn’t believe he was real!  The ironic thing about the whole evening though, was that in later years, the bridegroom, Leroy, was a very good friend of my Bob’s and they shared many drinks at the Whitmore pub.  Leroy had an allotment near ours when we had one in 1985. He still lived in Link’s Rd. in 1985 but I haven’t seen him for a long time.  I began to meet Eileen, Pam and Pat in the Grapes lounge and have a drink with them before we went to the Casino.  Eileen drank a bottle of Export Pale Ale and so I decided to have the same.  Of course I was nowhere near old enough to drink alcohol and I hated the taste of beer but I grew used to the latter and didn’t let the former worry me too much!  I remember one New year meeting up with them to go to the Hogmanay Ball, (it was probably the year in question!), We imbibed quite a few pale ales and decided to entertain the vicar of St. George’s church, (whose vicarage was in Moseley Ave.), with some carol singing.  Fortunately the vicar must have been out at the time, because nobody answered the door.  Although Jean and I didn’t socialise as much as we used to, she did ask me to go on holiday for a week with her that year.  Her Grandmother lived in Seaham Harbour, near Sunderland in Co. Durham. Mum had bought me a nice powder blue wool coat that year and believe me, I was grateful for it on the night we travelled up to Durham. We started off from Coventry station at about 9.30 P.M. The new Coventry station had not yet been built and we were still travelling by steam train.  We had to change at Birmingham and Crewe so there was no question of us sleeping during the journey in case we missed the stations.  We were very tired by the time we arrived at West Hartlepool at 6.30 A.M.  Then we had to catch a local train to Durham, and go by bus to Seaham Harbour.  We were shattered by the time we arrived at Jean’s Gran’s house at about 8.30 A.M. I can’t remember if we slept when we got there but we must have done because we were not tired when  we went into Sunderland in the afternoon to do some shopping at Binn’s the big department store.  After we had tea, we got ready and went back to Sunderland by bus and went dancing at the Rink in Roker Park.  This was a huge complex with a large dance hall, cinema, a skating rink and also the famous Sunderland football pitch was nearby.  It was the biggest dance hall that I had ever seen, and had large French windows all around the room that were kept open so that one could go outside for some fresh air if needed.  During the course of the evening, I met the most handsome Geordie lad that I had ever seen. He was tall, dark and very, very handsome and luckily for me, asked me to dance several dances. His name was Bill Jones. We went out of the French windows on to the balcony and stood kissing and cuddling.  He said I was a “canny lass” and I was totally smitten!  Fortunately Jean had met a lad as well and we arranged to meet the again the following Tuesday night.  Jean’s Gran was a lovely homely lady—a typical Geordie who had lost her husband in a mining accident.  She was a wonderful cook. She made us roast beef and Yorkshire pudding for Sunday dinner and to my surprise, the Yorkshire pudding was served separately as a starter and it was huge!  It covered the whole plate and was served with the most delicious gravy.  I was informed that this was the traditional way that it was eaten in the North.  We went to the Rink on the Tuesday and met up with Bill and Jean’s boyfriend and I had a wonderful evening again.  We met the next night but Jean’s chap didn’t turn up and she got the hump.  I think she was jealous of my relationship with Bill.  He was talking about leaving his job in the shipyards and coming down to Coventry to live and work, so that eventually we could get engaged.  Yes!—it was that intense! We exchanged addresses and arranged to meet on Friday night before I had to leave for home.  We didn’t meet again though, because on Friday night, Jean threw a strop and wouldn’t come to Sunderland with me.  There was no question of me going to meet Bill on my own, as Jean’s Gran would not have approved of that at all and so I had to go back home to Coventry the next day without seeing him. We wrote to one another for a little while but when we were back to reality it became obvious to both of us that our plans would come to nothing and after a while, we stopped writing.  So much for my one and only “holiday romance.  Meanwhile, I still continued to go dancing and dating and generally enjoying myself with all my friends and various boy friends.  It was the best time of my teenage years for a while.  I made my mind up that there was no way that I wanted to go “steady” with any boyfriend and that I would have a different one every night. The night after I made this momentous decision was Saturday night, three days after my 17^th birthday. 

 I went with Eileen, Pam and Pat as usual, meeting in the Grapes and going on to the Casino, after a few dances with lads that I knew, someone came over and asked me to dance who I had never seen before.  After the first dance, we danced together all night and he walked me home.  His name was John Fletcher.  I learned that he was 20, had been in the R.A.F. doing his National Service in Egypt and Cyprus.  He lived at Westwood Heath on Bockendon Rd., a road that led through Crackley Woods to Kenilworth (how he got home that night, I’ll never know---but thinking back, I believe he walked).  We made a date for the following night to go to the Gaumont cinema (Odeon).  I really can’t remember the film that we saw but it used to finish at nine on Sunday night and he took me to the Swanswell Pub afterwards, a pub that in those days was quite posh.  We went upstairs to the lounge to sit at glass topped wickerwork “Lloyd Loom” tables with matching chairs. They were painted gold. When he asked me what I wanted to drink, I thought of my friend Eileen’s favourite drink, and said that I wanted a port.  From that moment on, port was what I got whenever I wanted a drink, unless I asked for something different. I continued to see him on Sunday afternoons, when we would go to the pictures, as well as Fridays and Saturday nights at the Casino.  Sometimes we would go to the pictures during the week as well.  The only problem with this was that I still didn’t want to go steady with anyone but it was very difficult to finish with him.  In the end, I bowed to the inevitable and took him home to meet Mum and Dad.  They hit it off straight away much to my dismay, which made it even harder to end the relationship.  However, he began to grow on me and I accepted the inevitable.  He took me to meet his Mum and Dad after about four weeks.  They had a lovely bungalow with a beautiful long garden at the back, although I didn’t see it the first time he took me home, as it was Sunday night and it was dark.  His Mother and Father made me very welcome and I met his brother Jim, who was in the sixth form of Henry VIII school, the school that John had attended before he did his National Service in the R.A.F.  He had just finished serving three years in the air force two months before we met, having been posted firstly to Egypt and serving the rest of his time in Cyprus, where, (he took delight in telling me), he met a belly dancer named Syphoola Papadopolis and had a long standing affair with her. He had a photograph of her that he showed to me and she really was very attractive.  I suspect he was trying to make me jealous.  Looking back now, I can see that I was a bit miffed!  When Christmas came, he bought me a beautiful diamante necklace from H.Samuel’s that I had been admiring for some time.  He also bought me some Helena Rubenstein make-up, in those days it was the most expensive make-up on the market.  Yes—John was very, very generous.  This made me feel even more guilty, the fact that I couldn’t feel anything more for him than I would feel for a brother or a really good friend.  The crunch came in March 1954, when he asked me to get engaged to him on his 21^st birthday, the following April 16^th.  I was, in today’s vernacular, “gobsmacked”.  I couldn’t say no but deep inside, I didn’t want to say yes. In the end, I just went with the flow. He asked Dad’s permission, which was granted, as long as we would wait until I was 21 before we got married. We assured Dad that we would.  Famous last words! One Sunday afternoon, we went for a walk to Corley woods and the inevitable happened. It was a beautiful Spring day and we sat down on the grassy bracken and made love for the first time.  I really didn’t feel any different but after that, my whole life changed.  We continued going to the pictures and to the Casino but one Saturday night there was a dance held in the Abbey Hotel in Kenilworth.  I was going to stay at John’s house that night, as it was more convenient, Westwood Heath being nearer to Kenilworth than Coundon.  We started to walk home down Abbey Hill towards the traffic lights.  I’d had a few drinks by the time we left and I told John and his friend who was walking with us that the moon was winking at me!  They were laughing at me and I took umbrage and went on ahead of them.  As we got to Crackley Lane, I was marching on ahead and a car pulled up, the driver and his girlfriend asked me if I wanted a lift. “Oh!—yes please!—We’d love one” I chirruped, beckoning John and his friend who were a few yards behind me.  The looks on the faces of the couple were a picture to behold!  They thought that John and Bob were harassing me!  They had no choice but to give us a lift for the two miles journey back to Bockendon Rd.  When we got home, John’s Mum and Dad had gone to bed.  His bedroom, to which I was assigned was outside at the end of a veranda.  He was going to sleep with Jim that night.  He came in to say “Goodnight” to me and ---well—you know!  The next morning, when I got up, I had the most gorgeous breakfast.  John’s Mum had a pet duck that laid huge eggs.  I had never eaten a duck egg before but that morning, I became hooked on them.  I had it with bacon, tomatoes and fried bread.  It was delicious!  Soon afterwards though, the inevitable happened.  I found out that I was pregnant!  We were not even engaged yet!  To this day, I cannot say when it happened.  John used to say that if the baby came out with a bit of bracken sticking out of his bum it would be Corley Woods, if not, Bockendon Rd. Meanwhile, he took me down to choose an engagement ring from H.Samuels.  I chose a lovely ring with three diamonds in a heart shaped setting, on a twist.  It cost £12.10s, which was quite a large amount of money for an engagement ring in those days.  I loved it!  The only blot on the landscape was how to tell the parents that they were about to become Grandparents!  The solution?—we didn’t until a couple of months later, when we had to, because by then, I had started to show.  I went through a difficult time at work with some people, as they began to guess that I was pregnant, as in those days, “having to get married” was frowned upon by most people but for the most part, people were very kind. Especially Bill Richardson.  He lived in a caravan at Farcroft Caravan Park, up at Broad Lane and John and I visited him  several times and decided that we would save up for one.  He took us on a day trip to Bognor Regis one Sunday as well in his Triumph Mayflower.  We had a really nice day.  We played Crazy Golf, on the promenade. Bill was my colleague at work and when people were being unkind to me, he always stuck up for me. He was 26 years old and a confirmed bachelor as he had travelled around a bit, having been to Wyoming in America and visited Yellowstone National Park. The time came eventually when we could no longer put off telling Mum and Dad.  I was five months pregnant by then.  Of course, we told Dad first.  He was upstairs in bed and, quaking in my shoes, I walked upstairs behind John and left him to explain.  Fortunately Dad was very understanding and we left it up to him to tell Mum.  I felt really bad though later on when I heard her crying but Dad told her not to be daft and to take no notice of what the neighbours would say and so on.  John’s Mum and Dad were not as understanding, telling him it was my fault!  They kicked him out and so he came to stay with us for a couple of weeks before we were married. He slept in the small bedroom which used to be mine.  I was sleeping in the back bedroom, but for the life of me, I can't remember where David and Roger slept!  I took John a cup of tea one Sunday morning and I was in my nightie--- a thick flannelette effort that buttoned up to the neck--- Dad was getting up at the same time, and as he came out of his bedroom, caught me coming out of John's. "  Have you no sense of propriety?"  He asked. I looked at him "gone out",  After all I was five months pregnant and we were in their house!  What on earth was he worried about?  The deed was done and dusted! We were married by special licence on 14^th August 1954 at Coventry Register office, which at that time was situated in Little Park St.  Mr. Scott, a neighbour took us to there in his car.  I can’t remember what dress I wore but I think I had a dusky pink coat and I remember wearing a white hat made entirely of feathers that just fitted around the head.  They were very fashionable in the fifties. Afterwards Dad took us over to the N.A.L.G.O. club in Bailey Lane.  Uncle Jack and Auntie Bertha were Steward and Stewardess at the time, having left the British Legion club a couple of years before.  Dad’s friend Danny Lynch chauffeured us around in his Jaguar car.  He was a well known builder.  A lovely man, who, as his name suggests was Irish.  Dad would not let me drink any alcohol because I would not be eighteen until the following October so I had to put up with drinking orange juice while he was present but for some reason he had to leave for a while at four o’clock and after that everyone bought me Tia Maria’s and Babychams.  By the time he returned, I was quite merry and he must have relented, because he let me carry on drinking them. Of course, today, I would have agreed with Dad.  Not because I was under age, but because I was expecting a baby.  I was so relieved, because I was beginning to get heartburn from all the orange juice that I’d been drinking!  I can’t remember much more about the day though as it was such a long time ago.  It would have been our Golden Wedding in 2004! Mum and Dad let us live with them while we saved up for the deposit for a caravan.  Looking back, I can’t imagine how they managed, because David and Roger still lived at home and we only had a three bedroomed house.  Mum gave us the back bedroom that had previously belonged to the boys.  I left work the week we got married and my colleagues had a whip round for us.  My father-in-law owned a paper shop in Cox St. and my mother- in-law, having by now accepted the situation, took me to the wholesalers the following week to buy a wedding present.  Among other gifts, she bought us a pair of pink blankets and a musical alarm clock that played “A Hunting We Will Go” to wake us up in the morning!  I stayed home to do the housework while Mum, Dad, David and John went to work and Roger went to school.  At the time Mum was working as cook supervisor at St. Osburg’s school, David was an apprentice farmer and John worked at the Coventry Radiator in the press shop. The first time I did the washing for Mum, I put something red in the copper when I was boiling the sheets and white shirts and dyed everything pink!  Mum had to bleach it all.  We had a washing machine of sorts.  It was a large round tub with a paddle in the centre that went back and forth and it had an electric mangle attached to the side.  I didn’t like using it though because once I got my fingers caught up in it.  Fortunately it had a safety device on the top of it but still hurt a great deal, so I stuck with the copper and washing by hand. I also learned how to knit baby clothes. I knitted matinee jackets and vests and bootees.  I also joined a baby club in a shop called Saxess that was situated at the bottom of Fleet St.  I bought a lovely matching baby bath, potty and nappy bucket. One Saturday afternoon, John and I were down the town and we went to visit his Dad at his newsagents shop in Cox Street. Just down the road from there was a shop where they made and sold  batches.  Faggot and pea and pork and stuffing ones.  As we passed it, I looked in the window and there were pork batches piled up high in the centre of it. We had no money to spare at the time as we were saving very hard for our caravan.  By the time we got on the bus at the Hippodrome, I was craving a pork and stuffing batch so much that I was hallucinating!  I could see pork and stuffing batches floating in front of my eyes. By the time I got home I was desperate!  Lo and behold!  Mum got the tea ready for us and put a plate of pork and stuffing batches in the middle of the table. I’ve never forgotten how good those batches tasted. 

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