At some time during the Second World War the house must have suffered some blast damage because the internal wall between the two bedrooms at the first-floor front of the house had been removed thus making one large room. Apparently, it had not been sufficiently damaged to constitute a danger to the occupants, therefore, it was unnecessary for the authorities to remove us to safer accommodation, even if such existed. On the other hand there may well have existed a dastardly plan to be rid of us. Later in the war when the danger from the flying bombs (V1s and V2s) was considered too high for us to remain in London we were evacuated to the “safety” of Mexborough, in Yorkshire. This mining community was within 10 miles of Sheffield, which was on the Luftwaffe tourist trail because of its importance as a major steel town. Therefore, this was an ideal spot to find a little peace and quiet.
However, I digress. The, now, large front bedroom was occupied by Ron, Pat and George. Ken, who had not been born until February 1940 would, initially, have occupied a cot in the Parents’ bedroom at the rear of the house and not able to enjoy the night-time illuminations so thoughtfully provided by Ron. From sunset to sunrise each day it was necessary to have total blackout at each window to ensure that no artificial light could be seen outside the house. This meant, of course, that when the lights were switched off each room would be in a condition of pitch-black darkness. Somewhere along the line Ron had acquired a torch which he used to great affect at night. He would throw images, sometimes accompanied by appropriate noises, onto the ceiling and succeeded in scaring Pat and George. At the time Pat and George no doubt thought that he was deliberately frightening them for no other reason than the sheer fun of doing so. However, on mature reflection it became apparent, after about 40 years, that he was going through these exercises in order to prepare and harden us for those little problems which one may meet in life.
The house is positioned on the corner of Elfrida Crescent and Cowden Street. The living room covers the whole width of the house and is blessed with two windows. The smaller of the two faces towards Cowden Street, while the larger faces towards Elfrida Crescent. I use the expression “faces towards” because the house is on land set several feet below the level of both streets, thus the windows, actually, face onto garden which slopes up towards the streets and is topped with hedges of about 3 feet in height. Therefore, it is not easy to see into the house from the streets and, equally, from the house difficult to view passersby; in fact the view one had was of a grassed bank and the privet hedge. As the windows were covered by net curtains during the day and more substantial ones when the lights were on, viewing either in or out was very restricted.
However, the larger window had a windowsill on which we children could climb and standing in front of it was a sofa which, while not having the qualities of a trampoline, was furnished with springs and made a wonderful surface on which to land once we had launched ourselves from the sill. Back in those days often it seemed that pleasure had its drawbacks. The drawback to this particular pleasure was the parents’ displeasure on finding that the seats of their beloved sofa sagged, badly, when they sat upon them. Unfortunately, they failed to see the physical benefits we derived from this exercise.
In the mid 1940s, probably, a way of passing the time in bad weather was for us children to use the house as a glorified playground, although it has to be stressed this was when Ted was at work. The windowsill and sofa was an example of our use of the house as a theme park but there were many others activities we developed over time. One pastime had Ron on the top of the table in the living room while Pat and George huddled together underneath whilst trying to avoid his grasping hands. It doesn’t sound very exciting but for us young ones it was great fun. It could have been that Ken might have been allowed to join in this activity.
When not used in this fashion, the table could be pushed against a wall and the area underneath was converted into some form of tent or hiding place. This was accomplished by using the table cloth draped in such a manner that it almost reached the floor. This area would then be used as the base for any adventure or game we would decide to play.
The table was, naturally, used as a dining table for lunch, (or dinner as we used to call it), and dinner (which was, in fact, tea). My recollection was that breakfast was, generally, eaten in the scullery, unless my father (Ted) was at home when it would have been eaten in the living room. The table was wooden and extendable; but was it a pull-out job or did it have a handle the turning of which could extend it to variable lengths up to its maximum? I rather think it was the latter.
One thing which the table did possess, and it was invaluable, was a ledge around the under part. Eating as far as I recall has only ever been a problem for me when it required the eating of meat fat. I did not, and indeed I do not, like meat fat. Unfortunately, every Sunday lunch would be built around a roasted meat and meat was served with fat attached to it. My father would insist that fat was good for me, therefore, I must eat it. He maintained that he had not enjoyed fat as a small boy but because of his father’s insistence that he should eat it he had come to like it; it followed that the same would apply in my case. Therefore, most Sundays the same ritual would occur. Lunch always comprised just two courses, the main and the dessert. I would be served my main course all of which I ate save for the fat. My father insisted that I should stay at the table until such time as my plate was clear, of course it followed that if I did not finish my main course then I could not eat dessert. That dessert, often apple tart and custard, would be served and would remain on the table until I was ready to eat it.
Fat when warm is extremely unpleasant but when it becomes cold it does not improve. The longer I sat there the colder it became; congealed fat on the plate was not something that could entice me to eat it. More than once, although it seems it was frequently, I would still be seated there when the table was relaid around me ready for tea and I was given the option to eat the fat or go without tea; I couldn’t eat the fat so I had to wait until Monday breakfast to eat again. After a while I discovered the ledge under the table and then I was able to dispose of the fat there until such time as I could get rid of it.
My mother did not necessarily agree with my father’s attitude on this subject, however, his view was paramount. In the absence of my father from this meal the problem never arose because whilst my mother did not go against his word she went around it by ensuring any meat I was served did not contain fat.
The table was used also as a support for the billiard table. Many competitive games were played between Ted, Peg, although very rarely as she often had other things to do, Ron, Pat, George and Ken usually on a knockout basis – a white-washed ceiling provided a very handy source of chalk for the cues on those occasions when the chalk cube had been misplaced or when someone was too idle to collect it from another part of the table. The table baize was green and subject to many tears over the years, however, always mended, if not professionally, sufficiently by Ted with the aid of some rabbit glue and the heated clothes iron. We had two rather battered cues, which if one made sufficient allowance for the slight bowing brought about by warping, were adequate for our needs, although their condition may have contributed to the condition of the baize. The level of the competition may not have been of the highest standard but, of course, it was limited by our playing conditions; it is fair to say that when the balls did not go where they were intended to go that the repairs to the baize could account for at least some of the deviations. Fortunately, we never did have snooker balls, thus we were not aware at the time of how boring billiards could be in comparison to the other game. I have no recollection of where the billiard table resided when not on the table.
From all the activity which took place around that table one might have anticipated that a trench might have been formed, however, the floor covering was linoleum, or lino as it was always named, and that was a strong material.
We were never a wealthy family, therefore, it is most unlikely that Ted was able to afford to buy much of our playtime equipment, thus one can assume that some at least was donated by relatives or neighbours. However the equipment may have arrived it was, nevertheless, a fact that the dining room table supported, for many years, not only billiards but table tennis, shove-halfpenny and a pinball table.
For the table tennis we had a net and a couple of basic paddles, not for us those with a sponge underlay or pimpled rubber but instead just several layers of plywood glued together, and celluloid balls. The balls were frequently misshapen, because of accidents, which mysteriously were never anyone’s fault. The accidents would result in a dent being made in them. Each dent was removed by the application of heat. The only heat source in the house was from the gas cooker, all through the year, or the coal fire in the winter. Therefore, the application of heat was, for the most part, performed with great care. When insufficient care was taken and the ball was brought too close to the heat source the volatile nature of the celluloid resulted in a quick fireball and the end of ping-pong for the day, or such extended time until sufficient finances were available to buy a replacement. When care was taken the heat drew out the indentation but more often than not this resulted in a slight bump where previously we had a dent. So, just like with the billiards, our ping-pong performances were slightly impaired by the often idiosyncratic movement of the balls. Of course one should not blame just the balls. The table had been caused a certain amount of stress which had resulted in a surface which the pernickety might claim to be not entirely flat.
Ted was always keen to encourage all the children’s involvement in the games. However, they may have been just games but one was expected to take them seriously. Not always though did total dedication to the game in hand always happen, as evidenced during a game of pinball. Ted was taking his turn whilst Ron decided to amuse the rest of us by taking a set of deer horns from the wall, where they served as coat-hooks, placed them on his head, stood behind Ted and threw the shadow of this antlered creature onto the pin-ball table. Ted was not amused because, clearly, his philosophy was if you are playing a game you should take it seriously, not play at it.
That pin-ball table was an object which certainly finished its life performing in a far more serious manner than it was ever intended. Its construction was of wood, nicely polished with metal pins positioned at the requisite points across the surface. Small steel balls were launched by a spring-loaded device up the right-hand side of the inclined table. It was a basic form of the machines found in amusement arcades until recent times and which now are, probably, available on computers for the very young.
Peg, in order to supplement Ted’s income, became a home worker making cardboard boxes. The cardboard was delivered in their hundreds as flat-packs of tops and bottoms, together with paper and labels. However, before it was possible to make any boxes, it was necessary to have a “glue-table”. Ted made this by turning the pin-ball table over, which exposed the flat bottom which provided a flat surface for the application of the glue. The glue was made from glue pellets which were melted in a pot which was placed in water and stood within another; little did we know it but we were using a “bain-marie”. When ready the glue was applied to the flat bottom and the paper for the box was placed matt side down on the glued surface. Some of the glue transferred to the paper. The glued paper was then placed, glue-side up, on the dining table top and the cardboard positioned on it and shaped into a box. Peg worked on two types of boxes, one was designed for ” BDH” and were, presumably, used by British Drug Houses, and the other, rather slimmer, boxes were for “Chinagraph” Pencils.
On a Sunday afternoon, when Ted was not home, Ken and George would play football from the area by the entry door to this room to the opposite wall.
The more civilised activities which took place in this room tended to happen in front of the fire. In wintertime this was the only warm part of the house and, therefore, a magnet for all members of the family who were not engaged in some work related activity in the scullery. It was here, seated on the mat that we would sit and listen to Children’s Hour on the wireless. The fun was provided by the likes of Uncle Mac, Larry the Lamb and other deeply gripping characters whereas the intellectual stimuli would be provided by Commander Stephen King-Hall.
Ted, often with us children draped over him like some huge decorations, would sit in his armchair, in front of the fire, and read or tell us stories before we were sent off to bed. On at least one occasion Ted woke George “in the middle of the night” to join him in the living room to listen to a boxing match which was being transmitted from the U.S.A.; presumably the contest must have been a “World Championship” fight between the champion, probably American, and a British challenger.
When she came to visit us, Auntie Lil would bring some of the items made by “Brands”, the company for whom she worked. These items would usually be jars of fish or meat paste and bottles of A1 sauce, a delicious product which we all enjoyed on our Sunday fried breakfasts. Lil worked in the office and from there she brought another couple of items which were also deeply appreciated by us children, namely stubs of pencils and used paper. These were items which would have been considered by Brands as waste and thrown into the waste bins. However, Lil knew that the paper had only been used on one side and how useful the unused portion of such materials would be to her nieces and nephews. One must imagine that she provided some of these articles to all the children of her brothers and sisters. At 49 Elfrida these items were treasured for the pleasure we were able to obtain from drawing, writing and competitions.
In the days before computers we would occupy ourselves in activities which, by today’s standards, might sound dull. To take a sheet of paper and fold it into three equal parts does not sound very promising. However, when three children are each allotted one portion of the paper then things could become interesting. The first person would, on the top portion, draw a head of an animal or human and extend the neck down onto the second portion. The second person, without looking at or knowing what type of head was depicted, would draw from the extended neck a body, again of an animal or human, and then extend the legs down onto the third portion of paper. Again without looking, the third person would from the extended legs draw the full legs and feet. Only when all three portions had been drawn would the paper be opened up to its full length and, at the same time, all three people would see the work of art, or monstrosity, they had created.
Other competitive pastimes would be Os + Xs or a letter of the alphabet would be selected and we would each, individually, identify as many girls’ or boys’ names beginning with that letter. No doubt many other similar activities would have been included in our repertoire of events which formed a part of our “table” culture.
Time did not hang heavy on our hands and darts was at least one other of the games which occupied our time in that living room.
However, as busy as we seemed to have been in all of the foregoing, one activity probably stood out above all the others, and that was reading. Ted and Peg had a library of books which although not large by some standards was, nevertheless, substantial. It was from these that Ted would select the stories which he read to us. Among the books were a dozen volumes of encyclopaedia which provided us with an enormous range of interesting stories, myths and legends as well as articles on history, geography, exploration and much else. There was also a set of 11 books, published by Odhams Press and entitled “Practical Home Secrets Collection”. Each book covered a specific subject and these included “The Practical Home Doctor”; “Home Entertainer”; “How to Write, Think and Speak Correctly”; “Practical Handyman”; and “Secrets of Successful Gardening”. However, one in particular was an absolute gem. It was entitled “How much do you know?”, this we avidly poured over and held many quizzes based on the information we gleaned from it.
As can be seen, the living room was well named and indeed during winter and when the weather was too bad to play outside it was very well lived in. However, while this room entertained a certain number of our more physical activities it was not the only part of the house which was used for matters other than those originally intended for them.
To be continued in Part 3.
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