REMINISCENCES March 2016-03-06
At the grand old age of 72, I
have decided to sit down and try and write some memories of my life. This is in
no way meant to be an autobiography, but just a collection of episodes that I
can remember. I am also going to include some things about the family that I
was told by my parents.
In Sudan during the war
My Dad was working for the Sudan government as a liaison officer
between the Brits and the Sudanese. There was no radio service there in those
days. So Dad scrounged a transmitter from the military (I think) and gave
primitive news broadcasts on the state of the war. I remember that he told me
that he allowed Michael to read the news when the British forces entered El
Alamein, he was about twelve at the time.
It was also around this time that Michael got Meningitis and nearly
died. He was at school in Egypt at Alexandria College, and there was a flu
epidemic. He was in bed in the sick bay along with other boys when it became
apparent that something was seriously wrong as he was barely conscious. There
was a new drug from May and Baker called just ‘M and B’ which had been
effective against pneumonia, and (so my memory of the story goes) Dad arranged
for some to be flown in from England in an RAF plane. Anyway, Michael survived,
luckily for him and the world of mathematics.
At home with Mum
When I was about 3 or 4, I can remember sitting with my mum in the
kitchen and eating cream crackers with cheese for lunch. To make it more
interesting, we used to add salt and pepper to them, and cocoa to drink. Selma
of course would be having lunch at school. I used to share a bedroom with Selma
until I got too old for that. The room was at the far end of our bungalow, next
to the room that Mum and Dad shared. If we wanted to attract Mum’s attention
after we had gone to bed, we used to shout out in unison, because it was quite
a long way to the kitchen or living room.
Lodgers
Later on Selma and I had a bedroom each, and the room that we had
shared was used for visitors, or lodgers. We had a series of lodgers staying
with us from Kuwait, Sudan and Iraq. I think this was arranged via some kind of
service for foreign students that Dad was connected with. I remember one from Kuwait who was very quiet,
and studied art. We had one or two of his paintings hanging up. Another from
Iraq was called Ishaq, and studied child development or something. He gave us
some advice when Julian (I guess) was being fussy with his food.
Scalding
When I was very young (about 4 I think), I came in from the garden
trailing something I had found as a ‘tail’, I was high stepping, and trod on
the lead from the kettle which was long and dangling down. It had only just
boiled, and emptied a stream of very hot water down my back. I ended up
spending several days in bed, lying on my stomach, with dressings on my back.
Selma used to come and feed me soup or something easy to eat.
Primary School
I went to primary school when I was four. I trotted along with Selma,
down Bush Lane (where our house was), up the hill towards Send church, then
along the appropriately name Sandy Lane to school. I was friendly with a girl called Sheila
Burns, who lived on the road towards Guildford. We sometimes played in the
field opposite her house. I was somewhat miffed that she could run faster than
me. One of my other friends was Richard Denyer, who lived in the first house of
the council estate up Send hill. His mother used to come to our house and do my
mum’s hair. My mother also had a cleaning lady called Mrs. Mussel who had
several kids, including Sylvia who had ginger hair and freckles (didn’t fancy
her though). Her husband Ken used to work at Unwins the printer’s toward
Woking. She had a son also called Kenny who was blind in one eye, and this led
to his being killed in a motorbike accident near Send Church, where Christine
lived.
I can’t remember a lot about school lessons, though I do remember
helping other kids learn to read. I also remember getting a multiplication
wrong, and the maths teacher Mr. Donaldson was so surprised that he thought I
was having a joke.
Visit of Sayed El Mahdi
One sunny day we had a visit from Sir Sayed Abdul Rahman El Mahdi (a
descendent of the Mahdi), along with his entourage. He was dressed in Arab
clothes. We had tea on the lawn
(cucumber sandwiches), and he beckoned me to sit on his lap, and gave me a
crisp new pound note – a whole pound! That was a lot of money then for a small
child – I was well under ten years. My parents later took me to a toy shop in
Woking to spend it. At first I picked a large shiny red wooden train, but when
I realised that was going to take almost all the money, I opted for something
cheaper.
The Peanut King
We used to get various interesting visitors from the middle east who my
Dad had worked with. One time he introduced me to someone from Egypt or the
Sudan who he called the ‘Peanut King’. He was apparently very big in peanuts,
so we gave him some that we had in the house, and he pronounced them as very
good.
Real cotton at school
At primary school we were studying how cotton was
grown, and at the time my Dad was in the Sudan, so he sent me a box containing
some real cotton plants, complete with balls of cotton in them. This caused
some excitement at school when I took them into the class, as none of us had
ever seen anything like it.
The De Selincourts
My parents had some friends who lived not far from
us in Send called Michael and Peggy De Selincourt (actually I’m not sure they
were married). They were a very unorthodox bohemian couple, well educated and
Oxford English. Michael had worked at NPL (National Physical Laboratory), but,
as far as I could gather, been retired early because of his Communist leanings.
They lived about a couple of miles away near Ripley in a rambling, home built
bungalow (a bit like ours), which was referred to as ‘Hangover’. I’m not sure
this was the official address, but it was what I always knew it as. The clue to
its name may be illustrated by Michael showing us his private still, hidden
away in an outside cupboard, and made no doubt with bits of equipment from NPL.
When I first learnt to ride a bike I was so excited by my new freedom to roam
(as I saw it) that I rode over to their house. They were somewhat surprised
when I turned up out of the blue (I was about nine I guess). I remember a party
that I was invited to, full of Oxford educated physicists, and for the first
time in my life tasting homemade mayonnaise (after my mum explained what it
was). Pretty exotic for the time.
They had a son, Malcolm, who was about the same age
as Michael and Patrick, and I remember when he turned up in a three wheeled
Bond mini car, and demonstrated why it didn’t need a reverse gear by spinning
it round in circles in our drive.
Lyon’s corner house
I can still recall being taken, when I was quite
young, by my Mum to Lyon’s Corner House in London. This was considered a big
deal – I very rarely ate out until many years later. The various food offerings
were presented in little boxes fronted by plastic lift up panels, so you chose
what you wanted and self served. I was so excited; I spilled some of the bowl
of tomato soup that I clutched at. This was a whole new experience you
understand.
Xmas with Uncle Frank
My mum's brother Frank, who was very tall, had a first wife called
Vrairose, she was Austrian I think. She was very short, as was his second wife Marie,
who was Scandinavian. After Vrairose died Frank visited us at Christmas a
couple of times. I remember those as especially enjoyable. He was a very nice
man, and brought me presents of the 'Buffalo Bill Annual'. I remember he told
my mum that he didn't know what to buy a boy of my age, but he chose just the
right thing. I absolutely loved them, they were bright, colourful, and full of
exciting stories and articles - useful things like how to chop logs and ride
horses.
West Wittering and Littlehampton
We didn't travel a lot in those days, but sometimes we would take a
trip to the south coast. The nearest places were West Wittering and Littlehampton. Chiefly I recall those
visits as excuses to sit on the beach and drink Tizer. Exciting times. I think
a donkey ride was involved once. When I was really young my Dad didn't have a
car, but a bit later some money must have come in from somewhere because a new
shiny green Ford Prefect arrived amid much excitement. Registration TPA 441, it
was one of the cheapest cars on the market, but it was amazing to us and
enabled trips like those to the south coast to be possible.
The garden shed
Our house had originally been a couple of rough buildings used for
working in by the previous owners. My dad and friends joined them up with a
veranda in between, so it was a pretty long bungalow – a good 50 feet or so.
Behind, towards the rear hedge and between the orchard and the ‘rough’ lawn (as
opposed to the smart one with rose borders) was a large shed – I guess also
built by the previous owners? This had various uses over the years, as we had
quite a large workshop with adjacent garage built at the front of the house.
There was also a mini shed at the back of the large shed where the lawn mower
was kept. So the big shed was used as a studio flat, with a bed settee, a sink
and small cooker, and an inside/outside toilet in a mini porch. Patrick and
Christine lived in it for a while when they were first married, and later my mum
let it out to a couple called the Birds. I was quite friendly with Fred Bird;
he introduced me to some jazz artists like Stan Kenton and Ella Fitzgerald. He
also helped me with my model aircraft, and flew my first powered control line
plane. It crashed on landing and broke into several pieces, but I quite happily
repaired it. It was never quite the same though. The Birds later moved into the
flat at the end of our house that my mum had converted after my Dad departed –
to provide a bit of income. When I was
about 15 my mum let me use the shed for myself, and at one time I turned it
into a chemistry lab full of equipment.
The Lebanon
When I was coming up for 9 years old we went to the Lebanon for about 3
months in the summer. My dad was involved in something there for a while, and I
went out with my mum. I can’t remember Selma being with us. We travelled by
train to Paris, then caught an overnight train to Venice – no sleeper, just in
a compartment. Then we went by boat for 5 days to Beirut. It was an Italian
ship, a bit like a modern cruise. The food was good, and I really enjoyed the
journey. I made friends with another boy and we spent time together, went to
watch a film in the on board cinema, but as it was in French or Italian, we
didn’t understand it. We stopped in Brindisi I think, and Alexandria, where we
watched ‘gully gully’ men doing magic tricks on the quay below us. We threw a
few coins down to them. We went on shore there to meet some friends of my
parents, and went to a famous ice cream parlour where I had the best ice cream
I had ever tasted.
In Beirut it was hot. When we arrived aunt Najla and her mother were
cooking ‘mashei’ – stuffed vegetables. The day after we arrived I was woken
early and taken on a scout’s camping trip by ‘Micho’, my elder cousin for a few
nights. I recall walking in the mountains with the smell of wild herbs. Because
I was missing school, I was put in a girl’s school where they taught in
English. The girls were 2 or 3 years older than me, so I was a bit overwhelmed,
but got on OK.
After a while, we went up to a house in the mountains, where it was
cooler. Outside the house was a mulberry tree, and I used to climb up it to
pick the mulberries.
On our return to England we made the same journey, but this time we had
a sleeper compartment on the train from Venice.
Boarding School
When I came back from the Lebanon at nine years of age, my Mum and Dad
were finding me a bit hard going, so I was packed off to boarding school for
two years – at Dane Court, near Pyrford. The original plan was for me to stay
longer, but Dad ran out of funds after a couple of years, so I was shifted to
Woking Grammar when I was eleven. He had some thoughts of putting me in for a
scholarship to Winchester, but I wasn’t that keen on moving again, especially
after we visited Winchester and I discovered that it was fairly primitive –
they ate from wooden plates! (probably quite trendy now). Also, I don’t think I
worked hard enough – everything at school was too easy.
Going to Dane Court was quite a process – we had to go to Harrods in
London to buy my school clothes, which included a brown corduroy outfit for
winter (shorts and blouson), and red blazer and grey shorts for summer. Also a
specified collection of socks, underwear etc. We also had to get the famous
tuck box which later led life as my toolbox, and now Bev has tried to resurrect
it as a bit of furniture. At school it was used, quite properly, for tuck –
sweets and biscuits and a few nick nacks. It was lockable so no other pesky kid
could snaffle the tuck. In addition, there was full sports kit including a
hockey stick. We played sports every afternoon, and I used to travel to other
prep schools to play soccer and cricket for the school (there were only about
70 pupils, so competition wasn’t strong). This was also the height of my
athletics career, when I won the under eleven and a half cup (don’t ask me why
it was that age). It was touch and go, because I won the sprints, but wasn’t
good at high jump. I quite enjoyed prep school, as I made good friends and
quite liked sleeping in a dormitory. The worst thing was the food, as we had to
eat everything on the plate before we could leave. I have bad memories of
sitting alone in the dining hall faced with a plate of congealing fish in white
sauce which I hated. Eventually a dinner lady took pity on me and removed it.
Although I enjoyed the terms, I did miss home, and was always glad the end of
term.
One day I was told to go with another class to
listen to the radio
I was very surprised when I found out I was to listen to a broadcast by
my Dad about life in the Sudan. I guess my parents must have told the school
that it was on, I had no inkling about it.
I was even more surprised when my Dad told an exciting story about
having to shoot a troublesome crocodile. Apparently his bearer had packed a
shotgun instead of a rifle, so he blasted it with that into its mouth. Well,
all the boys were very envious at having such a glamorous exciting father. You
have to realise that my main impression of my Dad (who was about 40 when I was
born) was sitting in his armchair smoking a pipe, or typing on his typewriter. I
didn’t think he knew one end of a gun from the other.
The Sand Pits and our Trolley
Our drive led up to Bush Lane, and if you carried straight on, you were
going down a steep path into the sand pits. These had originally been quarried
for sand (where Send got its name), but were now disused and populated by trees
and bushes among the sand slopes. I used to play there with my friends, and
would often meet new friends there; it was a kind of common play area. Rodney
and I made ourselves a trolley from some old pram wheels and a plank of wood,
and used to race down the slope in it, sometimes alone, sometimes two up. I
would often crouch face down, with my knees on the front plank, my hands
steering the front wheels, and my face close to the ground. We would often come
off at the bottom of the slope, sometimes ending up in stinging nettles, but it
never stopped us. We also used to run around the estate where Rodney lived,
using the trolley as a form of transport. Health and safety? Whats that? No
brakes of course, except by dragging your feet on the ground. We used to climb
trees a lot; Rodney was even more of a climber than I was. Once he was bouncing
up and down on a branch when it broke off. He crashed down to the ground still
on the branch, but wasn’t hurt a bit.
Woking Grammar School
After two years at Dane Court, my Dad ran out of money – he didn’t have
a job, and writing and broadcasting were only sporadic, so I was sent to start
at Woking grammar (having passed the eleven plus at Dane Court). My Dad still
had ideas of putting me in for a Winchester scholarship, so he asked the school
if I could skip a year, having done some French and Latin at prep school. So at
the end of the first term they gave me some exams to do in French, Maths and so
on. I had to sit on my own along the balcony above the assembly hall and do
these exams after school, which I was not best pleased at. The only one I can
remember was the maths exam, because there was a question using graphs (a
quadratic actually). You were supposed to draw the graph and read off some
values of y for a given x. I didn’t know what graphs were, but I found a method
of computing y using what I later realised to be the method of differences
(more or less). So I got fairly accurate answers. The master who marked the
paper came and asked me how I got them, and I explained, but I don’t think he
understood. He said ‘I see’ and walked away with a puzzled expression.
Anyway, I was moved up at half term to the second year, but in the ‘B’
stream, so I was now in 2B. Most of the boys were nearly 2 years older than me,
because, being August born; I was the second youngest in my year anyway.
Looking back on it, it seems a bit hard, but I coped OK after a while. It
didn’t do much for my sporting activities though as I was so much smaller and
younger. And I was decidedly not popular when I came top of the class after my
first term in 2B. Happily I was then moved up into the A stream next year,
where I settled in quite well.
The Cross Country Run
Every year the school organised a cross country run, split into junior
and senior events, which everyone had to take part in. I actually got quite
good at one stage. In my first year in the sixth form, when I was 15, I came
21st (out of over 200). But what sticks in my memory was the first time I ran
it. At one point there was a stream we had to jump over. Being somewhat small,
I didn't make it, and slipped into the stream. Problem was, when I got out one
of my plimsolls (no trainers then) had slipped off. I fished around in the
muddy stream for a while, but couldn't find it, so I ran the rest of the way
with one plimsoll and one sock. My mum was not too pleased, as she had to buy
me another pair. One of the teachers said (at the end of the race), that he
could have given me a lift in his car. Pity he didn't say that sooner.
The Thin Line and Borehamwood studios
When I was quite young, about 8 maybe, my Dad sold
the film rights of ‘The Thin Line’ (his only really successful book) to
Associated British Pictures (aka ABP). As part of the deal he had to go to
Elstree studios to work on the film script. He met several film starts there,
including (I believe), Diana Dors. At one point he was quite friendly with a
film director, and we were all invited to go to dinner at his house. I still
recall that I ate Gnocchi for the first time in my life (obviously food was
already becoming an important feature in my life).
ABP were
soon taken over by Warner Brothers, and they canned the film. But, as I was to find out much later, the
film did get made, both in Japan and France. We saw the French film ‘Juste
Avant La Nuit’, directed by Claude Chabrol, many years later, with Bev and
Patrick and family, when he was prof at Warwick University. I have a copy of
the DVD which was released some time later. Then, a few years ago, Patrick was
contacted by an American film director (not well known) who had made a film for
channel 4 based on the characters in ‘Fargo’. He was interested in making a
similar film based on ‘The Thin Line’ (nothing has come of it so far). He told
me that the book had been filmed in Japan years ago (1966) called ‘The Stranger
Within a Woman’, or ‘Onna no naka ni iru
tan’ as we like to say in Japan. But wait, there is more, it was remade in
Japan in 2004 as ‘Onno no naka no futatsu no kao’. And also, into a Japanese TV
film, see http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0060786/?ref_=nv_sr_4
for more info. The reason behind all this shenanigans is the strange world of
copyright brokers. The film rights had been sold to a Japanese company (I guess
because they wanted to film it), and was then hawked around until Claude
Chabrol came across it. We actually got a bit of money each because the holding
company wanted to extend the copyright.
Rodney Laking
I used to make strong friends with a few boys over the years. For a
long time my best friend was Rodney Laking, who lived on the old council estate
up Send hill with his mum and dad and two younger sisters. Rodney went to St.
Bedes, the comprehensive school at the end of our road (Bush Lane). He wasn’t
the brightest of lads, but for some reason we got on well and spent a lot of
time together. He was very into aircraft, and we used to go and watch the
planes taking off and flying around at Fair Oaks, a local small private
aerodrome. We would take sandwiches on a nice sunny day and sit for ages just
watching the planes and enjoying the sun. We were also both into making model
planes. I made lots, some of which were hanging up from my bedroom ceiling, a
Hurricane, DH110, ME109. And I also made ones just for flying, mainly gliders
and rubber band powered. One flew very well, and I took it to the local ‘rec’
(recreation ground). It ended up in a tree, and got broken in our attempts to
bring it down by throwing things at it. I even followed Rodney in the ATC (air
training corps), but I soon decided that it wasn’t for me. After a few years,
Rodney’s father moved to a job with a house some distance away, and I lost
touch after that. My mum and I bumped into him working at the W.H. Smiths on
Waterloo station, he seemed quite grown up, but I never saw him again.
