I have been reading the reminiscences of some of the journalists on accyweb.......I have been contemplating telling about my past.
I am the eldest child in a family of seven children. Mother was a catholic, and Father was a Methodist..... must've got the method wrong.
Mother used to say he only had to throw his pants on the bed for her to be pregnant! When I was older I told her there must have been a bit more to it than that!
I have five younger brothers and one younger sister. I suppose that looking back I had what could be considered now as a 'deprived' childhood, but to be honest I did not see it like that.
OK, the material things were a bit thin on the ground, but it was the same for many kids growing up just after the war. I never really expected much out of life........I certainly didn't have any high aspirations.
I couldn't read until I was 7......don't ask me why, I just couldn't get the letters to make sense. I remember crying on a Saturday morning to be allowed to go to school. I was afraid that all the other kids in my class would be ahead of me.
Then one day, it all made sense and I could read. From that day forward I would read anything that i could get my hands on.......the back of sauce bottles, the News of the World that was cut up on the back of the toilet door for lavvy paper....everything that came my way.
My father (God rest him) used to tell me off something fierce for reading at the table.
When it came to doing my 11 plus exam, I was nowhere near ready.....I was still catching up with my peers.
Although I took the exam, I failed miserably........my father told me that opportunity only knocks once and I had missed my chance. Tell me......is all this boring you?
I went to secondary school and worked very hard. GCE's came out the year that I was due to leave. My English teacher pleaded with my dad to let me stay on at school to get some qualifications but he refused.
I had to go out to work.......the family needed me to make some money to support them. I left school in 1962.......there were loads of school leavers that year and we were all fighting for jobs.
I wanted to go into Nursing......my dad knocked that on the head when he heard how little I would be paid. He said I would have to go into the factory.
Now, I wasn't a snob, but I felt I could do better than that. After much searching I was taken on by an electrical firm. I got a job in their accounts office - me, who couldn't do sums for toffee......there I was poring over these great ledgers trying to make out what folks owed and sending them letters calling in their debts.
I hated it, and was pretty useless at it. In the end I gave up and put my notice in before I got fired. I got a job in a local shop selling cooked meats, pies and sausages. I was pretty mean on the bacon slicer I can tell you.
Because I was only 16 I got the best jobs to do......like taking the duck boards outside with a bucket of hot water and a chunk of green Co-op soap......what an exciting life eh.
Was this going to be as good as it got?
I didn't get paid very much, I think it was £4:50 a week...... but the woman who was manageress knew that we were poor and she used to make up parcels of pies and sausages for me to take home.
I tipped all my wage up and got fifteen shillings a week back (75p)...... and by Tuesday Mum was skint and asking for that back too.
Monday was a very quiet day in the shop......and sometimes I got left on my own. One Monday a Teddy boy with dark curly hair and lovely blue eyes came into the shop....(he was really handsome, I couldn't believe my luck)... he had come to ask me for a date.....not with him,(see, I knew it was too good to be true) but with his mate who was waiting across the street.
His mate was very tall with blondish hair and a chiselled jaw.....I said I would think about it and if they were in town the following day I would tell him then........to be continued.......well, thats how you keep your readers!
I am the eldest child in a family of seven children. Mother was a catholic, and Father was a Methodist..... must've got the method wrong.
Mother used to say he only had to throw his pants on the bed for her to be pregnant! When I was older I told her there must have been a bit more to it than that!
I have five younger brothers and one younger sister. I suppose that looking back I had what could be considered now as a 'deprived' childhood, but to be honest I did not see it like that.
OK, the material things were a bit thin on the ground, but it was the same for many kids growing up just after the war. I never really expected much out of life........I certainly didn't have any high aspirations.
I couldn't read until I was 7......don't ask me why, I just couldn't get the letters to make sense. I remember crying on a Saturday morning to be allowed to go to school. I was afraid that all the other kids in my class would be ahead of me.
Then one day, it all made sense and I could read. From that day forward I would read anything that i could get my hands on.......the back of sauce bottles, the News of the World that was cut up on the back of the toilet door for lavvy paper....everything that came my way.
My father (God rest him) used to tell me off something fierce for reading at the table.
When it came to doing my 11 plus exam, I was nowhere near ready.....I was still catching up with my peers.
Although I took the exam, I failed miserably........my father told me that opportunity only knocks once and I had missed my chance. Tell me......is all this boring you?
I went to secondary school and worked very hard. GCE's came out the year that I was due to leave. My English teacher pleaded with my dad to let me stay on at school to get some qualifications but he refused.
I had to go out to work.......the family needed me to make some money to support them. I left school in 1962.......there were loads of school leavers that year and we were all fighting for jobs.
I wanted to go into Nursing......my dad knocked that on the head when he heard how little I would be paid. He said I would have to go into the factory.
Now, I wasn't a snob, but I felt I could do better than that. After much searching I was taken on by an electrical firm. I got a job in their accounts office - me, who couldn't do sums for toffee......there I was poring over these great ledgers trying to make out what folks owed and sending them letters calling in their debts.
I hated it, and was pretty useless at it. In the end I gave up and put my notice in before I got fired. I got a job in a local shop selling cooked meats, pies and sausages. I was pretty mean on the bacon slicer I can tell you.
Because I was only 16 I got the best jobs to do......like taking the duck boards outside with a bucket of hot water and a chunk of green Co-op soap......what an exciting life eh.
Was this going to be as good as it got?
I didn't get paid very much, I think it was £4:50 a week...... but the woman who was manageress knew that we were poor and she used to make up parcels of pies and sausages for me to take home.
I tipped all my wage up and got fifteen shillings a week back (75p)...... and by Tuesday Mum was skint and asking for that back too.
Monday was a very quiet day in the shop......and sometimes I got left on my own. One Monday a Teddy boy with dark curly hair and lovely blue eyes came into the shop....(he was really handsome, I couldn't believe my luck)... he had come to ask me for a date.....not with him,(see, I knew it was too good to be true) but with his mate who was waiting across the street.
His mate was very tall with blondish hair and a chiselled jaw.....I said I would think about it and if they were in town the following day I would tell him then........to be continued.......well, thats how you keep your readers!
