GotTheTShirt.com

Growing Up

I was born in the year just after WWII and mainly raised in a small seaside town located at the easternmost point in the UK.

My grandparents ran a boarding house just over a hundred yards from the North Sea. 15 rooms catering mainly to travelling salesmen and theatricals who came in the summer season to the two theatres in the town hoping to make names for themselves, some did.

On retiring to a converted railway carriage on a cliff top my grandparents handed over the running of the Guest House, as it was now called, to my parents. Actually mother and stepfather as my birth father was a merchant seaman who was persona non grata with my grandparents, more about him later.

The Guest House was now catering to the post war family beach holiday for guests mainly from midlands and the north for most of the summer season. Many of the families returned year after year and some cases their children returned with their own families. The low season saw the return of the travelers and Christmas was closed for the annual family gathering-more later. Things slowly started to change when foreign travel was discovered.

From about the age of 7 my bedroom was located on the fifth and top floor of the Guest House. Very small room with a sloping ceiling housing a small attic style window as it was under the eave of the building, just enough room for a single bed and a small chest of drawers. Shared bathroom and toilet on the 4th floor with the guests although I did have the benefit of a guzunder or potty. The disposal of my waste and my bed making and room cleaning was seen too by my live in “Auntie” who also dealt with most of the other rooms. “Auntie” basically looked after me whilst my parents were busy running the 24 hour a day business. Actually not quite 24 hours a day, time off to add to the family in terms of a half brother and sister!

And “Auntie”, more about her later.

This is how what my grandparents home in the railway carriage looked like in the early 1950’s. This is where I spent most of my weekends in my early years. Weekends were when the guests departed and arrived at the “Guest House” and I would not be in the way staying with the grandparents.

And just a few years ago.

Me

I was about 5 when they married and we lived in the midlands for a time. Stepfather initially working for one of the car giants and later having his own taxi before the call came to move to the coast and take over the running of the “Guest House” so mother and I were returning to our roots as it were. I had almost forgotten, I actually went to Convent school when I was 2 years old, a superfluity of nuns were the teachers in a converted house further up the seafront. Apparently only until I was 4 but no real memories apart from the fact that I do not believe in any gods so the nuns obviously had little effect on my early years-unless of course the nuns were atheists.

A family highlight of that particular time was when the Guest House was closed for the Christmas period in the early 1950’s and my grandparents, my mother and I actually went to America to visit my grandmothers sister and family in one of the biggest cities on the east coast of the USA! We traveled over the Atlantic Ocean on the Queen Mary and returned on the Queen Elizabeth, or maybe vice versa, not sure. My memories were threefold. The first was seeing people ice skating in a huge outside stadium and the second was seeing a dead stag tied to the front of a pick up truck! Apparently the hunting season. The third was seeing was seeing Father Christmas in a huge department store and receiving a silver dollar which I kept for some years. Suffice to say that the USA had little influence on me apart from maybe the odd nightmare of seeing the dead stag flopping around on the bonnet of the pick up!

Queen Elizabeth

Queen Mary

The earliest memories of primary school were school dinners which we were almost forced to eat and I vaguely remember mother being called to the school as I refused to eat the vegetables and the desserts. This resulted in my taking packed lunches from that day forth, usually plain bread and Marmite or brown sauce sandwiches with the crusts cut off and a Wagon Wheel, today they look no bigger than a pound coin! And I still do not eat vegetables!

That’s about as much as I can recall from the primary school days although I do vaguely remember disappointing the whole family by failing to reach the dizzy heights of grammar school by joining most of the kids of working class families at secondary school. But that was when my education really started, first fight, first drag on a ciggy, first kiss, oh, and some maths, English tuition etc thrown in.

The beach, a stones throw from the “Guest House” about 5 years ago.

The beach much more than 5 years ago.

The Secondary School years

Having failed to reach to the dizzy heights of Grammar school at the age of 11 I entered a secondary school just a twenty minute bike ride from the Guest House. Trusty lunch box in the saddlebag that on occasion carried such delicacies as shredded cheese and vinegar rolls and cheese rind and black pudding.

Usual ragging of the new recruits but only for a short period as in my mother’s words I was ” not backards in coming forwards” ,basically meant I gave as good as I got and would not stand for much crap. Despite that one 2 year senior guy decided to try it on by harping on about my “middle class” status until it was resolved in the toilet behind the bike sheds. Did I mention that I had been taking Judo lessons for 4 years and was the equivalent of a junior purple belt? Anyway, that had nothing to with the mini victory, I struck first and kicked him in the nuts. Strangely enough after that we became quite good friends and shared our first cough after dragging on a ciggy butt we found!

Black pudding

Black Pudding (large stick)

Not too many memories of the teachers although two do stand out. The math teacher who was probably only in his early thirties but to us looked ancient, at least 50. Had the ability to hit errant students on the head with a stick of board chalk from any distance. A criminal offence today of course but he certainly kept our attention. The English teacher looked a bit hippy style and had hair like a Golliwog. A term that is now taboo but was well recognised in those days on toothpaste (Actually that was Darkie?) and jam and toys amongst other things. I was good at both English and math so probably another reason to remember them. The English teacher in particular, who later in my secondary school life gave me some great advice that probably affected the direction of the rest of my days. More about that later.

Golliwog on the jar!

The Secondary School years 2

At around 12 years old pocket money had to be earned and my parents thought it would be a good idea if I was to help in the Guest House and someone’s great idea was that perhaps I could help as a waiter in the dining room. Not only that, but why not dress me up in the little white waistcoat and add a white shirt and black bowtie! (I do have a picture of that, maybe post later!)

That futile exercise lasted precisely one day, I hated the uniform and more so hated serving people and after many tantrums and tears my parents relented and let me go my way in terms of earning pocket money. I had already sounded out the local paper shop and knew that were looking for delivery boys so took on a round. Getting up early was the potential problem but again Auntie came to the rescue, making sure I got up and having a cup of tea and bowl of cornflakes on the staff room table ready for me to go.

I soon discovered that I was able to deliver papers and magazines quicker than any of the others and when a new round came available I took that on as well, doubling my pocket money overnight. I developed a liking for money in my pocket and when the grocers delivery boy left I added an after school job to my portfolio and delivered groceries on probably one of the most dangerous bicycle designs known to man. Three crashes, one a little serious, but more damage to groceries, eggs in particular.

All the weight at the front, add groceries and a very dangerous machine!

So, I was making a little money but working hard for it then along came bingo. Our little town boasted two piers, one at each end of the beach you saw in the earlier pictures, the South Pier and the other pier. The South Pier occupied the north end of the beach so never quite able to get to grips with that, a great place for fishing though. Harbour one side, deep waters of the North Sea on the other.

The “bingo” pier.

The other pier was where bingo came in to play. One of the houses I delivered groceries to was the home of the people who leased the amusement arcade and I got to know the son. He worked on the bingo stall amongst other things and he told me that they were looking for a hard working trustworthy person to help operate the bingo which was always busy in those days. Being 15 did not seem to be a problem so with my parents agreement I was working most weekends and 3 early evenings a week on the bingo. My income tripled and of course the paper and grocery rounds were ditched, greener pastures. Basically all I had to do was collect the money and call out the numbers of the lucky winners to be checked. Peak hours we were probably getting through a game every 6-7 minutes, lucrative.

Time to leave the bingo bonanza coincided with my coming to a big decision with my time in secondary school and one of the elderly, probably early twenties, bingo callers arriving late one day and clutching his side. Apparently he had fallen out with his wife and she had stabbed him! Maybe I should be seeking something new.

That is when the advice of the English teacher came in to play.

Auntie

Auntie and my grandmother were great friends who lived in the midlands. Grandfather to be and Auntie’s boyfriend went off to WW1. Grandfather to be returned and later married my grandmother, Auntie’s boyfriend did not and to the best of my knowledge she never married and never had another boyfriend. However, Auntie did retain contact with her boyfriend’s family for some years, even after they moved to the mid west of America.

After WW1 my grandparents along with Auntie bought the boarding house and moved to the east coast. All three of them doing their part in the running of the establishment. Grandmother cooking, grandfather looking after the kitchen and food preparation and Auntie general house work. Auntie was the thin fit one and for years was able to almost run up and down the five stories doing here various tasks, no lifts! Peak periods required the hiring of part time staff but it soon reverted back to the 3 of them running the show. My mum was born in the very early thirties and she was soon Auntie’s favourite distraction. That was of course until at the end of WW2 when my mum was distracted by a merchant seaman who was to become my birth father and the family were in receipt of a new bundle of joy the following year. That of course was me and all of Auntie’s attention was directed to me. There were some harrowing times following my birth but more about that later.

Auntie just about became my surrogate mother as she was totally devoted and I became somewhat of a spoiled brat for a few years. Then mother met by stepfather, married, and we moved to the midlands. Auntie resumed her duties in the Guest House.

Auntie simply ministered to my every whim and want so I was perhaps a somewhat spoiled infant. She washed/ironed all my clothes, bathed me, fed me whilst mother drained her energies catering to the “guests”, as mentioned, a 24 hour a day job. Auntie took me to school met me from school. Bought me toys when I asked. I was definitely a huge apple in her eye and stayed that way all her life.

The English Teacher’s Advice!

It really is quite strange how relatively simple events can have a profound effect on one’s life, fate, karma etc.. Hence The English Teacher’s Advice!

The English teacher’s advice was just the first of a number of events that changed my life direction. Mother’s brother, my uncle, was a chief chockhead in the Royal Navy and had regaled me with stories of the many ports and countries he had travelled to during his service years. I felt this could be the life for me but although wanting to travel I wanted a more comprehensive training that I may be able to use in later life, engineering, electronics etc. A little research led me to enquire about life in the Royal Navy as an Artificer

Royal Navy Artificer, a highly skilled naval rating that has successfully undergone a five-year formal apprenticeship in skill of hand and specialist knowledge. My preference was the Fleet Air Arm , the elite force of the Royal Navy.

To that end I approached the career’s advice teacher. The alternatives to getting initial selection were to stay on at school to get the required 5 GCE’s including maths and English or to take the entry examination of the Artificer college and gain a year by already entering training. After researching the options the career’s advice teacher bluntly told me that I would have to stay on at school to get the necessary GCE’s to try to get any chance of selection. In no uncertain terms he told me that based on my past academic record I would have no chance of passing the Artificer entry examination.

Assuming that the career’s advice master knew best I resigned myself to another year at secondary school. Until!

The English teacher knew of my desire to join the Royal Navy as an Artificer and simply said is there any reason I should at least sit for the Artificer entry examination, what had I to lose? He said he would research the application requirements for me and he subsequently arranged an examination schedule. I duly sat the examination at the local labour exchange monitored by an officer of the Royal Navy. Incidentally, I was the only person sitting the examination in the east of England at that time!

You may have guessed, I passed with flying colours. I was actually advanced by 3 months in my initial academic training when I subsequently reported for duty just two weeks after my 16th birthday at the Artificer training “ship” in the south west of England. The advancement would go a long way to my getting in to the part of the Royal Navy that I so desired,. The Fleet Air Arm (FAA)

All thanks to “The English Teacher’s Advice!”.

Chockhead- named after the “chock” that was used placed under the wheels to stop aircraft moving. (Yellow and black in the picture)

Bump in the road

There was another bump in the road that could have caused a problem with my joining the Royal Navy.

It turns out that I had been using my stepfather’s surname since he married my mother but my birth certificate had retained the name of my birth father. I guess I had not been adopted so my surname from birth had not been changed. I had simple been registered at kindergarten, primary, secondary schools etc. with my stepfather’s surname. Obviously no proof was required.

There was also another hiccup on the road. When my grandparents decided my birth father was not the one for their daughter he was given his marching orders and mother and me stayed with her parents. My birth father took umbrage at this situation and “kidnapped” me from the the guest house and my mothers’ care.

This was somewhat short lived as he was apprehended by the police at a railway station with me in tow and I was returned to the fold. However, action was to taken to protect me in the future and I was made a “Ward of Court”

“What does being a Ward of Court mean?

What is Wardship? Wardship is the name that is given to Court Proceedings where a child is made a ‘Ward of Court’. This means that the High Court have the ultimate guardianship of the child to ensure their safety and protection. A child cannot be removed from England and Wales without the permission of the Court.”

So, joining the Royal Navy required the permission of the High Court of England which was duly granted. In addition I had to officially change my name to my stepfather’s surname from the name on my birth certificate. Apparently I was given the option to retain my birth fathers surname or change it to my stepfathers and the surname I had used since I was an infant.

I changed to my stepfather’s surname by a process called “Deed Poll”

A deed poll is a legal document that proves a change of name. You can change any part of your name, add or remove names and hyphens, or change spelling.

All the above duly completed and I was free to join the RN (Royal Navy)!

Almost Forgot

Almost forgot. There was another event that helped me get selected to be an Artificer in the Royal Navy. The year before finally being accepted at the age of 15 I applied for and was given a seven day “scholarship” aboard the oldest still moored naval gunship.

The ship was an 80-gun third rate of the Royal Navy, one of only two British-built 80-gun ships of the period. Launched on 31 March 1798. Served initially as the flagship to a one eyed one armed Admiral before he took command of his more famous flagship.

The ship was moored in the harbour of the main Royal Navy port of the United Kingdom in the south of England. Myself and around 20 other wannabee sailors spent the week “enjoying” the early rising, deck cleaning, and a great deal of small boat drill.

The most amusing part of the whole thing was how to “build” a hammock including the tying and untying of the nettles each day and then getting in and out of the hammocks! The week included a couple of day trips to a nearby island and a visit to what was then the world’s most famous flagship.

The “scholarship” , despite it’s brevity, was received well by the selection team and helped with the acceleration of the initial Artificer training.

Artificer (Tiffy) training begins!

Artificer (Tiffy) training begins! Finally left the comforts of home and in late 1962 I finally joined the Royal Navy as an Artificer apprentice stationed on the south west coast of the UK. Artificers were “affectionately” known as a Tiffy or Tiffies by the other parts of the Royal Navy

As mentioned previously the initial period of training was supposed to be one year but myself and 3 others from our entry of 150 only had to do 9 months because of our academic prowess. Most unexpected in my case.

“September 1961

Accelerator scheme introduced. Suitably qualified and bright apprentices are now able to complete their training in only two terms of accelerated training instead of the usual three.”

Initial training consisted mainly of cleaning everything that was static. Early morning drills. Lots of exercise, all designed to instill discipline and to make us part of a team. A couple of the new recruits had already gone by the end of the first month, basically homesick. If I remember we had the option to leave before the end of the first 3 months. After that we were committed to 12 years service from the age of 18.

Our uniform was blues belts and gaiters for the first few months.

You may be able to see nametags on the left side of the chest. When I joined we had to sew our surnames on all our clothes in red cotton, that was a real pain. My only consolation was that the name I had changed to by deed poll was somewhat shorter than my birth name!

When cooler we wore blue jumpers.

The rest of the training was to determine our practical skills, metal work, electronics etc. The most successful of the trainees had their pick of which branch of the Royal Navy they wanted to serve in from EA (Electrical Artificer) ERA (Engine Room Artificer) etc and the elite that everyone wanted to enter was the Fleet Air Arm as AA (Aircraft Artificers) specialising in airframes and engines. That is what I applied for and was selected. We were now to get the uniforms we had been dreaming of, with gold buttons!

We were all looking forward to the passing out parade and to moving on to our new bases. However, just prior to to the passing out parade basic training was completed by 3 days of self sufficiency in the highest mountains in the west of England, that went by reasonably well although I injured my leg abseiling down a cliff face and on return to the “ship I had to spend a week in sick bay for the injuries to recover. I badgered the doctor to let me out for the passing out parade as my mother and half sister had travelled down to see me. Despite his reservations the doctor reluctantly allowed me to attend my passing out parade.

A week in bed and then standing for long periods do not go well together. I was the star of the passing out parade, passing out, apparently at attention breaking my nose and blacking both eyes. So it was back to the sick bay for running repairs before I was allowed to join my mother and half sister at their hotel before returning home for 3 weeks leave at the guest house.

After the leave I was to join another concrete ship (Naval air station) for phase two of my training.

Artificer Training Phase Two

Artificer Training Phase Two commenced after three weeks of leave following our passing out of basic training.

We had been given rail passes to the “ships” where we were to actually learn what our jobs were to be. My rail pass took me from the most easterly point in the UK to a town on the east coast of Scotland that was famous for smoked haddock and training Aircraft Artificers. I was to spend nearly 3 years at the concrete ship learning all the things we would need to be able to keep the front line strike aircraft of the Fleet Air Arm running smoothly and to continue training in discipline and teamwork.

Other duties consisted of main gate security and various other not so pleasant jobs. I quickly found a way around that, I joined the band. Band members were on “special duty” that meant only being in the band and travelling around performing in other “ships” and local festivals. Initially I was playing the triangle, yes it’s true but I soon found I had an aptitude for playing the drums and was soon “promoted” to side drummer.

The band was a great addition to my life in the FAA and had quite a few adventures performing around the country and on three occasions we actually appeared with the massed bands of the pipes and drums in Scotland, once at a highland games event, awesome!

Extensive schooling in the repair of airframes and engines was the order of the day and continued general education that led to a HNC (Higher National Certificate) Aeronautical Engineering. Still plenty of drill training, including the silent drill squad but managed to avoid that, band duties again! At one point I reached the dizzy heights of Drum Major in the band. Not adept at “tossing” the mace so did not try that whilst marching, dangerous to bystanders!

I was 16 and a few months when I had my first cigarette. Smoking seemed to be encouraged by the powers that be allowing us to buy 200 Blue Liners a month for about 5 shillings. (About 8 pounds in sterling terms today) I had originally sold them for about 5 times cost but then got hooked myself. They were phased out in the early seventies.

Blue Liners

Much the same with the rum ration available from the age of 18. Those that did not want it would trade their ration for switched duties or cash. It was “grog” for the junior ratings, a mixture of 1 part rum two parts water, quite disgusting. Senior ratings, Petty Officers and above were entitled to “Neaters”

““Neaters” were the undiluted rum served to the petty officers and above onboard ship; ratings (or regular sailors if you will), were served with a measure of rum famously known as the tot, which was a quantity of diluted rum mixed with water called grog, and if you don’t know the terms, well, brush up on your reading of rums.”

The Artificers at work!

Leave a Reply

“September 1961