Chapter 3: Moving On

Chapters:

1: Beginnings, 2: Doreen, 3: Moving On, 4: War, 5: Peace, 6: A Long Encounter, 7: Family

In 1929 my father bought his first car for £17 (second hand of course). It was a tourer with a canvas hood and mica side windows which had to be fixed on somehow when needed and the hood pulled up rather like a pram hood. It had beautiful leather seats. It was called a “Clyno” and I have never seen any mention of such a make. He had no driving lessons – the man he bought it from just gave him one lesson and then my father drove it home that morning. After lunch he wanted to take us out. It was of course in the days of what was called “double de-clutching”. Unfortunately my father hadn’t quite mastered this. We came to a cross-roads where a policeman was on traffic duty. We had to stop, but when the policeman waved us on my father couldn’t get into gear and we just bounced backwards and forwards.
The policeman gave up and turned and waved on the other line of traffic. Pedestrians stopped to watch and found it very amusing. My mother was not amused and refused to go out with him until he was proficient. We had a garage built at the bottom of the side wall. We were the only family in the road with a car and I suddenly acquired new “friends” who wanted a ride. Once my father was proficient we used to go every Sunday in the summer to the seaside – either to Southend or Margate. Strange that we travelled along the A2 close to where Graham and Marilyn now live, and there was always a traffic hold-up at Rochester on the way home. I was always frightened by the drive on to the ferry at Woolwich.
	1929 was an eventful year. I entered the scholarship exam for a place at the grammar school (we could only enter if our names were put forward by our school). I also took an exam for a scholarship at the Ursuline Convent at Forest Gate. My mother chose to send me to the convent, when I gained a place at both school. There were only six scholarship girls entering the convent and we were the first they had ever taken, so we did not have an easy ride. It was still a boarding school and all the day girls were paying pupils. I was probably the worst off, not financially but being teased, as my mother chose to pay for me to have my lunch in the refectory. The other scholarship girls took sandwiches. I was not happy at lunchtime as I did not know the rules and nobody was going to tell me. At my first meal there was spinach. All vegetables were served in dishes and we had to offer these to other people (it was bad manners to just help oneself first) – so my first mistake, as nobody was in a hurry to offer me anything. My second was to discover I didn’t like spinach, so left it on the plate. Every table had a nun sitting at the head watching. When the plates were passed along to be taken away the nun rang a bell and there was instant silence. My plate was held up and she said “Whose plate is this?” I had to stand up. The plate was passed back to me and I had to eat it while the whole dining room waited for me to finish before pudding was served.
However much we disliked any particular food we were made to eat it – nothing must be left. My next bad moment was when I was told I had to provide a fish knife and fork. We didn’t own such things, so my poor mother bought some at Woolworth’s. How those snooty girls sniggered at the sight of my chromium plated cutlery! However, there were things about the school that I really enjoyed, and soon made new friends. In 1930 my father sold the Clyno and bought a saloon car (as they were called), a Morris Cowley. The other event around that time was that we went abroad for a holiday – fairly unusual then, even though it was only to Belgium and Holland. I was terribly seasick but apart from that I enjoyed it, especially the wonderful ice-cream! My father wanted us to see the trenches so we went to Ypres. I don’t think that was where he had been but it gave us an idea of how horrible it must have been to live (or die!) there in the cold and mud. The next great event, in 1933 was moving house. Our neighbours at 82 Mortimer Road had become very friendly with my parents and they had moved to Ilford where a large new estate was being built. They invited us over to see their new house and my mother saw other similar houses for sale and started a campaign to persuade my father to buy one. He succumbed in the end, thought would not buy the rather more expensive one she really wanted (almost £900) but found one for £750. How wonderful it was to have a proper bathroom upstairs and plenty of hot water from an “Ideal” boiler in the kitchen. There was a long garden and a garage built on to the side of the house – such luxury!
There was one problem – my scholarship, which had been financed partly by the education authority of East Ham. There was a suggestion that I would have to transfer to an Ursuline convent in Ilford, but I really did not want to start being a “new girl” again. It was agreed eventually that I could stay at Forest Gate. It was a long journey for me (it had been a fairly long one from East Ham to Forest Gate) but in those days nobody asked how a child was expected to get to school. I had to take two buses in the winter and in the summer I cycled. My mother saved money from the housekeeping allowance each week and paid for the bike. My father, who was a ‘saver’, never asked how I had suddenly acquired a bike.
In 1935 I took “School Certificate” (now G.C.S.E.). I got Distinction in Maths and History and Credits in English, French, Geography, Chemistry and Art. When we had finished School Cert a group of us went on a holiday to another convent in the Ursuline order. This was at Westgate, a seaside town on the east coast. We slept in a dormitory and on the first morning were awakened very early (about 5.30 to 6) by a nun who stood in the doorway and recited something in Latin. One of our party, a Catholic, sat up and replied in Latin and we were all able to go to sleep again. This happened every morning! We had beautiful fresh figs with our breakfast – they were growing in the gardens. We had to get permission to go out anywhere and my friend Catherine lied to the nun, saying we were visiting friends of my family who lived in Margate and we went to the tea dance held in a café on the sea front! I then had to decide what to do in the sixth form. My friend Catherine who was very clever and had gained an Honours Certificate (3 subjects at distinction level) was expected to go into sixth form and do great things but instead she took the exam to enter the Civil Service at Clerical Officer level (the exam was almost identical to School Cert so was relatively easy). I decided to do the same but was 2 days too young at the entry date to be allowed to take it and it was only held once a year. Our school had just started a sixth form course in shorthand typing and book-keeping and I opted for that. Both Catherine and I were sent for by the headmistress to be told that we were being very silly and should spend two years in sixth form and take Highers (A level) and go onto college. By “college” she meant teacher training college. The thought of becoming teachers (all spinsters in those days) was not appealing so we refused to change our minds. “All right,” said the headmistress “go and become cogs in a wheel.” We both realised later in life that she had been right and we had wasted our opportunities, although there was at the time nobody who would have pointed out that we need not have gone on to be a teacher. However there were few occupations for girls like us then, apart from the Civil Service, banks or nursing or teaching. Married women were not employed. I spent a year in the sixth form and gained good grades and left in 1936 and applied to a bank (not the “Midland” where my father worked as I felt people would think he had got me in – “wicked pride” as the nuns would have said!). I spent three months in the national Provincial head office in London and left out of sheer boredom. I was sent for by the manager to be told how stupid and ungrateful I was to walk out on a job that many young women would be grateful for! I then worked in an insurance office but the only way in to the Civil Service then for me was shorthand typing so I took the exam and was sent to the Colonial Office in Downing Street, Whitehall – we still had colonies then! Some of the work was interesting – I was given a report to type on the high number of illegitimate babies born in the Caribbean Islands – my supervisor was horrified when she discovered what I was doing as “it was not a suitable document for a young woman to be reading.” How times have changed! I moved into the Minister’s office and was given the job of reading the daily newspapers and cutting out any articles referring to the department. After a short spell there I went to another Ministry (Board of Trade) in the Companies Winding-up Department, commonly known as Carey Street – hence the saying when companies became bankrupt “they are in Carey Street”. Carey Street was by the Law Courts and Lincolns Inn. Our bosses were all qualified lawyers and barristers. Senior girls were allowed to accompany them to court hearings but once again I was disappointed to be told I was too young – I might have to listen to things that were not suitable for a young woman to hear! The offices were small and very old. We had coal fires and had to go right down to the basement for the “ladies”. The senior men had small cupboards in the office which contained “chamber pots”! It was a small office and very friendly and lunch times in the summer in Lincolns Inn fields were very enjoyable. One day a new girl, Eileen Wadley, arrived. We became friends and remained so until she died age 75! We were paid weekly and on Fridays we would go to the Lyons Corner House at Charing Cross for lunch which was expensive (1 shilling and 6 pence – about 7 ½ pence in decimal). Of course, we were only earning about £2 a week, though that was quite a good wage.

Chapters:

1: Beginnings, 2: Doreen, 3: Moving On, 4: War, 5: Peace, 6: A Long Encounter, 7: Family