Chapter 2 - Four Four Six

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This is from the "magnum opus", Dad's memoir of his life up to middle age.

Fulham Palace Road runs from Putney to Hammersmith and is probably best known to those who support Fulham Football Club or those who watch the Oxford v Cambridge Boat Race from the Fulham bank of the Thames rather than from the towpath or on television.

The side roads off Fulham Palace Road lead to Bishops Park at the Putney end, Craven Cottage in the middle and wharves etc at the Hammersmith end. An interesting feature of these side roads which is not always realised by the people who live in the area is that that, with some letters not included etc, they are in alphabetical order. From the Putney end the side roads are:

Bishops Park Road
Cloncurry Street
Doneraile Street
Ellerby Street
Finlay Street
Harbord Street
Inglethorpe Street
Kenyon Street
Langthorne Street
Queensmill Road
Lysia Street
Niton Street

Many of the houses along Fulham Palace Road have two front doors which lead respectively to ground floor and first floor flats. Unusually, the two flats each bear a separate number so that one house has two numbers. Number 444 (Upstairs) and 446 (Downstairs) is a typical example. Number 446 was our family home before the war. It had a large 'front' room which was occupied by Miss Emily Stokes as a bed/sitting room. I realise that what seemed large to a young child may, in fact, be quite small but the room contained a double bed, a secretaire, a piano, a sideboard, a table and a wash-stand. There was room for the seven of us to be accommodated for musical evenings.

Next was the 'master' bedroom where Mum, Dad and my two sisters slept. Down two steps and continuing along the passage led to the bathroom and WC, a small bedroom where 'Chub' and I slept, the kitchen and finally, the scullery. The back door led off the scullery into the garden which was very narrow but 22 yards long. There was no electrical supply but gas lighting, except for the small bedroom, bathroom and WC which were lit by candlelight. Mum cooked by gas and washed the clothes in a coal fired brick 'copper'. There was a range in the kitchen which served to heat the room and was also used for some cooking. Since the kitchen served as our 'living room' the heating aspect was essential. Mum was very keen on the garden (which Dad never touched) and grew a variety of flowers, many of the perennials originating from 'down home'.

I should have been born at 446 but we had temporary accommodation at number 12a Lambrook Terrace, off Fulham Palace Road, while Dad did some essential work to improve the flat. However, a few days after my birth saw the family back at 446. We were joined some two years later by another baby, Mum's last, bringing the total number of children up to four.

The eldest was Robert Francis, named after Dad (Robert Alfred) and Mum (Frances May nee Stait), next was Marjorie Angela Ruth then George Stait and finally Irene Joyce Ada.

I was named George because I was born on King George V's official birthday and Stait after Mum. The short stay at Lambrook Terrace seems to have been arranged by the nurse who lived at number 11a and she was always called 'Auntie from Lambrook'. The midwife was probably 'Auntie' Nell, not to be confused with Great Aunt Nell, a genuine relative, who lived to the ripe old age of 94 and still controlled her estate until a stroke slowed her down at the age of 93.

When my brother was born he weighed in at 12lb 11oz. It had been obvious to my parents that he would be large and they had already dubbed him 'Chub'. He arrived on 19 January 1927. Mum was so concerned that this was too near Christmas and he might not receive any presents that she pursuaded Dad that they should tell everyone that 'Chub' was born on 4 April. This charade continued until 'Chub' was entering for the School Certificate at the age of 15, which meant that he needed a birth certificate, and the cat was out of the bag.

One day, soon after 'Chub' started school and I went with him for the walk, I asked to be allowed to stay at school. The Headmistress, Miss King, agreed and it is possible that I may have been the youngest child (aged three and a half) to have attended the School. My earliest memory of Miss King is that I thought of her as a queen from the day that we attended an evening function and she wore a long dress. One day, after school, I was playing with another lad in Harbord Street. He, unlike myself, was not wearing a cap. Miss King came along the street and we both bade her "Good Evening". The next morning I was caned for not raising my cap to her. I hated her for some time after that. I stayed in the Lowest Infants class longer than would otherwise have been the case and it is probably for this reason that I have such fond memories of Miss Gown. Also, it was she who always played the piano and I have, from a very early age, loved the sound. Empire Day (24 May) gave particular pleasure, presumably because we all sang, accompanied by Miss Gown. Rule Brittania, Land of Hope and Glory and, of course, Jerusalem were all learnt at that period, never to be forgotten.

Finlay Street JMI School was the same as most others in that the teachers were a mixed bunch. Miss Buckley amazed me by making me seem like some kind od genius when I could manage my multiplication tables. Miss Hodgson was a feared dragon who suddenly became human during the school summer holiday prior to joining her class. Mrs Lake was a walking proverb store and never seemed to tire of such gems as:

"A still tongue shows a wise head." or
"Speech is silver, silence is golden."

Mrs Lake was also a stickler for grammar and anybody who asked, "Can I do so and so" could be sure to receive the reply, "You can, but you may not." The most important memory of Mrs Lake is that she taught needlework. Marjorie owes a great debt of gratitude to the early guidance given by Mrs Lake which led to her becoming a skilled seamstress.

The teacher in the top class was Mrs Eaton. She was the only teacher who ran a car. I believe that she used the family car on Fridays and remember it as being a Vauxhall 12.

Most of the children at Finlay Street were not memorable either. I can only easily remember a few. Dane Farthing was a bully and never seemed to tire of jumping on to the back of an unwary victim. I hated it but, one day plucked up the necessary courage to take revenge. I took a good run and leapt on to Dane's back. This was such a great feat that I repeated to anybody who cared to listen, and no doubt, a great number who did not care to listen, "I jumped on Dane Farthing's back". My first love was Molly Lendon. I never told her but I suspect that all the boys in the school loved her because she was very pretty. One afternoon after school I took Robina Tudor home to her house before walking back home. As families will, mine called her my girl friend for what seemed like ages but was probably only a day or two. David Beggs was a fairly regular playmate and his cousin, Barry Harris lives on in family folklore because, Mum having laid a party spread on the table which had it positively groaning, Barry took one look at the array of good wholesome home made cakes etc and asked, "Aint yer got no fancy cakes?" Betty and David James were the children of a divorcee and I was invited in to see their new litter of puppies. The bitch, no doubt seeing me as a threat to her new offspring, bit my thigh and I still have a distinct scar.

When 'Chub' began to talk he was invited to call Miss Stokes Auntie. The best that he could manage was 'Arboo', so that became her name for the rest of her life.

Childhood memories are few and far between but can serve to show some of the differences between 'then' and 'now'. For instance, Dad's violin playing in the Lyric theatre orchestra. He firmly believed that the new fangled wireless was going to put theatre people out of work and therefore would not allow one in the house. Our musical entertainment was provided by a 'wind-up' gramophone or by 'Arboo', who was a very good pianist, with Dad on his violin. We occasionally all sang together or were individually required to perform some party piece. On one such occasion I remember earning a reward, probably a penny, by singing God Save The King.

My pocket money was a penny a week from Dad. 'Arboo' gave each of us a ha'penny a day and three pence ha'penny on Fridays. She also gave us money for running errands. One such errand was to fetch her a jam bun from the bakers, probably Hemmings, half way down Inglethorpe Street. My reward was to have been a ha'penny but I got nothing owing to the fact that I had licked the jam off the top. My story, that there had been no jam in the first place, fell down when it was suggested that I should take the bun back to the shop.

Inglethorpe Street, like many of the other side roads, was more or less halved by Glenthorne Street, running parallel to Fulham Palace Road and Stevenage Road. The cross roads often had a shop on at least one corner and three of these corner shops were often visited on errands for 'Arboo'. The oil shop on the corner of Harbord Street was one of my regular visits for her. I think that the shop was called Wills. Be that as it may, I can clearly remember the classic oil shop smell, a mixture of bundles of firewood, candles, paraffin and soap, together with the countless other commodities stocked by such shops until they were replaced by the modern hardware store.

I have already mentioned Hemmings. Another regular call was to Offers, the tobacconist and Sweet stuff shop on the corner of Kenyon Street. The dregs from sweet jars were collected in one jar and sold as Hundreds and Thousands. The cigarette machine was also in demand for Dad's Players. Mum did most of her shopping at a row of shops in Fulham Palace Road and I can recall David Grieg and the Co-op and Mum's Share Number which was 268711. For clothes and other major items, Mum used to shop at Hammersmith, King Street in particular. One Christmas Mum took her entire savings for presents etc to King Street and a pickpocket stole the lot, amounting to £5. 'Auntie' Nell came to the rescue with a huge box of goodies which saved the day. My main Christmas present every year was a new suit. This became my best suit until the following year's present superceded it and it became my school suit.

Our favourite playground was Bishop's Park owing to its diversity of activities. We could take a picnic, buy ice creams, play hide and seek and so on. The end of the walk through the park is at Putney Bridge and we had endless entertainment watching the Council gardeners at the Bridge Approach, laying out the flower beds with such relevant designs as, for example, the Fulham Borough Council's Coat of Arms.

The River Thames, was another source of interest and, as a special treat, we occasionally took the ferry, to be rowed across to the embankment on Lower Richmond Road. A second choice was the Recreation Ground in Fulham Palace Road (The Rec). There was a wide range of roundabouts, swings and other toys based on these (remember the 'Bus' and the 'Horse' ?) and it was quite a short walk from home.

Ravenscourt Park had similar swings and so on but involved a journey by 'bus and tube via Hammersmith and we could ill afford this. There was the wet weather advantage that most of the swings etc were under cover in the railway arches. During the summer holidays we preferred to go further afield to Putney Heath or Wimbledon Common. Mum could usually manage the fare one way and we walked there in order to enjoy the luxury of the 'bus ride home. There was the choice of several routes but our favourite was the 93 because London Transport were still using open topped 'buses.

On Bank Holiday Mondays we made a bee line for Putney Heath, especially to have rides on the carts which some local Coster Mongers took to the Heath for just this purpose. The driver shouted his 'wares' as he did every other day in Hammersmith, Shepherds Bush or Fulham (North End Road) market. This time he offered a ride for a halfpenny and the offer would be:

"A'penny a long ride"

And a long ride it was, lasting about ten minutes with anything up to 12 people sitting on makeshift seats at the sides of the Coster's cart, the horse patiently trotting round the roads surrounding the Heath.

Probably the biggest event in the lives of any of us when we lived at 446 was the Silver Jubilee of King George V and Queen Mary in 1935. The local activities were many and varied and culminated in a huge party at Hurlingham Polo Ground, at which we were each presented with booklet and, of course, a Jubilee Mug. During the day all school children in the Borough lined the route of the procession of the Royal Carriage through London. The Finlay Street JMI children were allocated a stretch of Lillie Road, by the Recreation Ground. We were all advised, well in advance, to take along a cushion, made from newspaper and covered with brown paper, on which to sit in order to be insulated from the cold pavement. I think that we all stood in time to cheer their Majesties as they passed but the fleeting glimpse that anybody had was, in my case, more imagined than real.

We could not afford a family car and the opportunities for riding in a car, a longed for luxury, were few and far between. Mum took the four of us to church and the family became regular churchgoers, with the exception of Dad, who stayed at home to 'have a bath'. It was more or less automatic progress for 'Chub' and me from singing in the choir to becoming servers. The church was St Clements' which was demolised soon after the war to make way for housing development. St Clements' was an Anglo Catholic church and I always enjoyed the music and the ceremonial.

The organist/choir master was Mr Phelps who came up from Guildford in Surrey. His normal route home took him along Fulham Palace Road, over Putney Bridge and my very first ride in a car was in his Vauxhall 14. The vicar was Father Young who was a real text book vicar, being a man of very considerable charisma. His curate, Father Hodges, was very popular with the children, not only because he was the epitome of a grandfather figure but also because he was the school Padre and could be relied upon to make a fuss of any of his 'flock'. Father Hodges also took us on the Sunday School Outing. I particularly remember the one to Regents Park Zoo since this involved my first memorable ride on 'The Tube'.

The one thing that puzzled me at the time about Father Young was that I only had one pair of shoes. When these were in need of repair, Dad would do this (he did all our shoe repairs) and I wore a pair of plimsolls. One Sunday I wore them to church and Father Young complained that they didn't look appropriate under my cassock. Dad was furious and I could well see his point of view.

I can remember an airship flying over when we were in the garden one day. Since learning something about them I have always hoped that it was Barnes Wallis's R1OO rather than the ill fated R1O1. The other aircraft which I remember were an autogyro and light aircraft 'sky writing' in smoke and towing advertising slogans.

It is worth a mention that 'Chub' had a 'weak chest', the result of pneumonia as a baby, and went to Wood Lane Open Air School. He complained about the ink being frozen but the overall experience seems to have been beneficial.

On the days when Fulham were playing at home and cars and taxis were parked all along the normally empty side roads, many of the local children, myself included, would play in the front of taxis which could not be locked. The starter would respond to the pressing of the button but the engine would not run without the ignition key being turned 'ON' so until we were chased away, either by some law-abiding citizen (or was he merely irritated by the moise ?) or the taxi driver, we would happily flatten the batteries of taxis. I don't recall any vehicles being abandoned so it is likely that we only ran a starter for a few seconds. In any case this did not count so far as being in a vehicle was concerned.

15 minutes before the final whistle, the gates were opened at Craven Cottage and local lads would go in, to be passed over the heads of the crowd to watch the remainder of the match. I had no interest whatever in football and only went for the fun of being involved.

My second car ride came about when I was sent on holiday, under the London County Council, Country Holiday Scheme, to a village called Croyden, near Royston in Hertfordshire. Another lad, who I had not previously met, and I were collected from Royston Station by the local vicar who then drove us to our 'digs' at speeds up to 6O mph in his Rover 14. The year was 1939 and, at the age of 1O, that was my very first holiday. It was very enjoyable and I remember getting into a spot of bother when we discovered a rabbit which seemed to have become entangled in some wire. After we had killed the rabbit and taken it back to our hosts we were taught about snares.

There were no arrangements for school dinners at Finlay Street School but children from less well off homes were given tickets which they could use at Childerly Street JMI School at mid-day. Armed with my ticket, I used to walk up Harbord Street, across Fulham Palace Road and down Childerly Street to the School. Fulham Central School for Boys was also in Childerly Street and 'Chub' was due to go up to the Central School at the beginning of the Autumn term. Fulham Central School for Girls was in Finlay Street and Marjorie had her sights set on going there. The Headmistress, Dr Elsie Toms, commuted by car every day from her home in St Albans in Hertfordshire. The reason for mentioning this will become clear later.

Traffic in Fulham Palace Road changed significantly during the 193O's, with trams giving way to trolley buses and the neighbourhood children collecting tar blocks, from which the old road surface had been constructed, to use as fuel. Robert Owen House, a block of Council flats was completed and the new mercury vapour street lamp standards were erected along Fulham Palace Road. It wasn't long before there was a road accident in which a young cyclist (aged 12) was the victim of a collision with a trolley bus and was killed. There was the expected uproar, with a great deal of local feeling about the 'silent killers'.

Before 'Chub' could take up his place at the Central School, Adolph Hitler took a hand in events and we went round to Childerly Street School to collect our gas masks. We were soon off to the country to stay until the 'crisis' was over, hopefully by Christmas. The powers that be decided that families should not be split up and so all four of us were evacuated together.

Before moving on I should mention the medical arrangements available to us in those days. The Casualty Department of West London Hospital was the last resort in serious cases and there was a clinic, at Bishop Creighton House, in Lillie Road, where First Aid treatment could be had but if the services of a doctor were required then it was up to the family concerned to make arrangements with a local doctor of their choice. Financial arrangements often caused hardship before the days of the NHS and Mum paid subscriptions to the Hospital Savings Association (HSA).

I was taken to West London Hospital for my tonsils to be removed. We could not afford bicycles and were therefore fascinated by them. One day I was turning the wheel of a bicycle which had been upended for the purpose and, when I tried to grab a pedal to continue to rotate the chain wheel, my finger was trapped between the chain and the chain wheel and therefore made nearly a full revolution.

The end of my finger was not cut off but it was a close thing. A visit to the clinic at Bishop Creighton House left me with a huge 'dolly' of a bandage and Marjorie took me on a 'bus to Wimbledon Common as a reward for my bravery. Mum would probably have been less than delighted to see us climbing trees but the pain of the injured finger was soon forgotten, bar the throbbing. The scar remained for ever and is a frequent reminder of this incident.

Another aspect of my primary school days which is worthy of mention are the school plays. In common with most JMI schools there was an annual play, or similar, for parents. I have photographs of a number of these. Dad made seven wooden pick axes for the dwarves in 'Snow White' and because I was not given a speaking part (I can guess why!) I was made a scene shifter. Another photograph shows me as the butcher in 'The Pied Piper of Hamelyn'.

Previous: Chapter 1 - Roots Next: Chapter 3 - Evacuation part 1

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