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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.

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.

Tag: Guest House

Growing Up

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The Secondary School years 2

Auntie