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My biography:
I was born into this world in Wanstead Hospital (long since closed down)
in very modest circumstances. My father was a butcher working in local
shops in Loughton and Debden and mother was what they used to call "a
housewife" and I spent my first year or so living in one of the Oakwood
Hill prefabs ... I think it was in or near Leycroft Close.
At that time I would have joined my sister in hollering and screaming
and doing all the things that babies do. She was a couple years older
and sadly no longer with us.
After a couple of years in the prefab the council must have thought us
worthy of something grander hence moving us to Roydon Close and then,
after a couple more years, on to even more palatial accommodation in
Thaxted Road.
My father's means of transport also increased massively in status, from
a push bike to a series of old mopeds, which he repaired in the kitchen
when it was raining too hard to repair outside ... and his idea of a
grand day out for me was him sitting me on a makeshift seat on the push
bike (or, more latterly his moped) and venturing out to Abridge. This
couldn't go on indefinitely though and by the time I was 22 I was having
trouble getting on the seat and people were starting to stare and point.
I can understand that.
As time went on a car appeared outside the house in Thaxted Road (a
rusty black 1959 Ford Prefect) which took us to the Isle of Wight - and
back! This really was life in the fast lane.
Around 1965 or '66 I would have been about 14 or 15 and was desperate
to drive. My father was sometimes given evening or weekend use of the
butcher's delivery van from the shop where he was working. If you
promise not to tell anyone I'll admit that he and I went over to the
disused RAF Barrage Balloon site (off Roding Lane) and I was allowed to
drive up and down the big concrete areas that are now covered by the
David Lloyd sports centre. In fact I spent so much time over there in
the butcher's van and in my old man's Ford Prefect that as soon as I was
17 and took my driving test (at Knighton Lane, Buchhurst Hill) it went
suffiiciently well that I was lucky enough to pass. I can remember
playing over the fields by the river and looking over past the barbed
wire fencing of the RAF site and not having a clue as to what was going
on in there. Nowadays you can look online and get a flavour of the work
that they did there. Did you know there was an operational Royal
Observer Corps bunker (a nuclear explosion monitoring post) over there
right up to the end of 1997? Well you do now!
And, speaking of modes of transport, from my bedroom window in Thaxted
Road I could catch a glimpse of the Central Line between Loughton and
Buckhurst Hill and it was quite a novelty to see the occasional Sunday
morning steam train ... what they called an 'excursion' train which
apparently went for the day to the south coast, or maybe Southend too .
I was was never on it. However there were one or two family trips to
Southend - mainly just for the day - I have a couple of photos of me
sitting on a boat, probably at Leigh or Chalkwell or somesuch. Rest
assured the boat wouldn't have been ours.
I must report, dear reader, that my education and upbringing whilst
attending Whitebridge and the Brook doesn't feature in any widely
published documentation. To say that I was anonymous, bordering on the
insignificant, would be an understatement. It is true to say I excelled
in ..... well .... nothing really. Maths confused me. History and
Geography went in one ear and out the other. English lessons were the
closest I came to understanding anything but even then I barely managed
to get any sort of CSE pass. When it came to running, jumping, kicking a
football or throwing a javelin or discus I was never much good. I can't
offer any sort of explanation as to why I appear in the cricket team
photo coz I was no good at that either. And when it appeared to the
teachers that a particular scholar was failing to show immediate promise
in this or that subject sometimes they might say that everyone's good at
something, it just takes time for their talent to show itself ..... and
there were times when I wondered when my own endowment with some
remarkable or worthy expertise would unveil itself. And to this day I
continue to wonder.
From this point on I'll try to keep it to the absolute minimum.
For some reason I seem to recall skipping the last day at the Brook and
failed to collect the three meagre CSE certificates in English, Woodwork
and Technical Drawing. No great loss as the grades were two, three and
four. Not enough to send me up to Oxford or Cambridge.
Fellow readers will know that in 1967 you could get a job of some sort
reasonably easily and if you didn't like it you could get another one
and keep swapping jobs until you found something you might like to stick
with and, myself, after leaving the Brook I went in to a boring job
with Redbridge Council and after a year or so there got another job
repairing telephones (the ones with round dials, remember them??) in The
City and quite enjoyed that for a good while. One or two other
positions were taken and left until it was suggested to me that I apply
to join the Fire Brigade. That served me well for 28 years and was the
final full time job I had. It has to be said that when not releasing
cats from trees or battling the fury of skip fires my days off were
productively occupied and on reflection it all could have been a lot worse.
I'm not now about to move on to the numerous areas in life in which I
have excelled and am not really in a position to lay claim to a string
of noteworthy achievements. I got married and have two wonderful .....
cats ..... and I drive a Skoda.
The aforementioned wedding was in 1973. The ceremony was followed by a
grand "do" afterwards in a room above the Cauliflower pub in Seven Kings
where a limited selection of sandwiches were provided for the handful of
guests and a honeymoon was taken in Harlow New Town where we lived for a
few months. After that a good few years were spent living in the sleepy
hamlet of Ilford.
There then followed a lengthy period of time living in the elegant and
opulant environs of Buckhurst Hill. After living in Ilford for 13
years I was keen to return to Buckhust Hill having spent most of my
early years thereabouts. But times change and another 18 years on it
was time for one more move and the West Country beckoned. It's a bit
different here compared to Loughton / Buckhurst Hill / Chigwell. Not
for everyone I'm sure but after 16 years here we've settled in OK. And
now we're all living with Covid and I have to admit it hasn't struck
here as seriously as it has in some other places and having been in
hibernation for the past two years neither of us have (yet?) got it, so
am grateful for what I've been given.
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