More Reading and Viewing

I'm currently reading Andrew Marr's book 'A History of Modern Britain.' I read his earlier volume, 'The Making of Modern Britain' which starts with the death of Queen Victoria in 1901 and concludes with the end of the Second World War in 1945. This second book (which, apparently, was written before the other book.) takes up the story in 1945 with the General Election which saw Labour win a landslide victory and Clement Attlee becoming Prime Minister. This administration ushered in the Welfare State, the birth of the N.H.S.,  and National Insurance. I'm not sure this wasn't written to compliment a documentary series which Marr wrote and presented on BBC 1. I think I may have seen it, but, when I saw these two books in The Works in Milton Keynes Shopping Centre I had to buy them. Full-price they cost £9.99 each, but they were selling for £6 for both.  I have to say I love a good bargain, and at that price they were more than a bargain.

Yesterday evening there was a documentary on BBC1 which was a sort of complimentary programme to the drama series 'Call The Midwife,' which gave a background to that series and mentioned the introduction of the National Health Service in 1948, so it was interesting to read about this in the Marr book and hear people talking about this on this programme.

I also learned that in 1947 there was a 'Big Freeze' that winter. Roads were blocked and food had to be rationed, even more than it had been during the war which ended in 1945. Things were certainly extremely tough. It reminds me of the winter of 1962-3. That was exceptionally cold. I lived on a farm and my father had real problems keeping pigeons off the Brussel sprouts which they grew on the farm.  They used what are called gas guns, contraptions which ran on cylinders of what I imagine would have been like caller gas, with a timer, and these things had a charge in them, with a timer, which was let off at a pre-determined length of time and which scared off the pigeons. It was one of these gas-guns which went off in the back of the Land Rover, which my father was driving at the time, and perforated my father's ear-drum and as a result made him profoundly deaf which he was forever after until he died in 1993. He did wear a hearing aid, when he could be bothered to wear it, but his hearing was never the same after that incident, as you can imagine. It must have been a very loud explosion, and in an enclosed space, as it would have been in the back of a vehicle and he would have been sitting quite close if he was driving the Land Rover. 

It was also the year I had my appendix out. I was supposed to go into Victoria Ward at Bedford Hospital over Christmas that year, but fortunately I went in well before Christmas so I could be at home for the Christmas period. I remember that ward, it had tile panels on the walls, each one showing illustrations for nursery rhyme characters. I don't imagine that old Victorian ward is still being used as a children's ward. Anyway, at Rushmoor School which I attended, no doubt after I returned to school in 1963,  the playground became so snowed over because it snowed and then thawed and then froze I seem to remember, the snow became so thick we had to go out and help shovel it off the surface (unlike today, when children don't have to help with anything at school, no doubt they would say it was contravening their 'Human Rights' to have to work, or even help to pick up litter which is something we had to do at school. Anyway, the snow was heaped at one end of the playground, against a wall, and when it was frozen solid, it began to push over the wall. I'm not sure it was able to actually collapse it, but I do remember it was pushed to a quite sharp angle.

My Dad

There was quite an age difference between my mother and father, around 20 years, so my father would have been in his early 40's when they got married in 1945. He would always appear to me, as a  young child, as being quite gruff and somewhat distant as a parent. This might be put down in part to the fact that he was profoundly deaf. This was due to an incident which happened when a gas-gun he was carrying in the back of the Land Rover exploded whilst being driven at the time. I should explain that these gas-guns were used on the farm as a way of frightening off birds, particularly pigeons,  from crops and operated on a timing system. No doubt the one that exploded hadn't been put on safety when it was being transported. He did eventually wear a hearing aid, but only when he could remember to use it and then when it was working correctly and not making loud whistling noises which must have been very uncomfortable for him. Once I'd left home, and after my mother had died in 1981 and you'd visit him he'd be sitting watching television with the sound turned up almost full volume and it was obvious that he wasn't using his hearing aid, so you'd have to hunt around for the television's remote control in order to reduce the volume so you could begin a conversation with him.

He was very good with his hands. He was an excellent welder and this would have been handy with regards repairing equipment on the farm. When we were very young children he constructed an amazing four-wheeled contraption which allowed four of us older children to pedal the thing around the village. It had a steering wheel like a car and the same sort of pedal and chain mechanism you'd find on a bicycle to power it. We sat behind each other rather like a tandem. I'm not sure what became of this wondrous machine, but I have an idea it met with a serious incident, perhaps ending up in a ditch or something worse as as a result being beyond repair and ending it's life in one of the barns on the farm and never being used again when we grew too big to be able to fit in it, which was a real shame.

My Dad certainly seemed extremely accident-prone. The incident which caused his deafness, or at least contributed in large measure to what poor hearing he had before the accident, was just the beginning. At harvest-time there were always problems of some sort or other with the various bits of machinery breaking down and then needing repair. The weather was always an important factor when the corn was being harvested, so if there was a threat of rain then the combine harvester or baling machine would have to come to a standstill. If there was a breakdown, and there were many, my father would be on the spot attempting to repair whatever machine it was in order to keep the harvest going. It was whilst attempting to repair the baling machine that he managed to cut his hand. There is an extremely sharp knife inside the machine which cuts the twine which runs around the bales of straw so I presume it was this which caused his injury. He was constantly shoving his hands inside these machines without any thought of injuring himself. He had to return to the farmhouse with blood pouring everywhere and my mother's training as a nurse must have come in useful as she cleaned up the wound and bandaged his hand but this didn't prevent him from returning to the harvest field to continue with repairing the baler.

On another occasion he was doing some sort of repair on the horse-box my mother owned which was used to transport her horses around to various places. I think he might have been replacing a tyre or something and didn't have the thing lifted up on the proper sort of lift such as you would expect to use for the purpose and the horse box was balanced precariously on a pile of bricks. It was just when my mother was about to serve up Sunday lunch and he came flying into the house, again with blood pouring everywhere. The horse box had collapsed and crushed one of his fingers. He was rushed off to Accident and Emergency in Bedford and it turned out the top-most segment of the finger that was crushed when the horse box collapsed on it had to be removed. Which ever surgeon did the operation did an amazing job but it meant he never had any finger nail on that finger. It must have hurt considerably, but he never seemed to show any sort of pain as a result of the accident.

There could be times when you were with him in the car when he was driving and it could be quite hair-raising, particularly if he was driving past a field that had been ploughed or was being harvested. He would be staring at the field and making comments, particularly if it was a neighbouring  farmer's  as he was sure to make some comment such as 'Huh, that's  a poor field of wheat!" or "ploughing's not very straight!" or "It's full of weeds!" and you'd be holding on to your seat for dear life as the car wandered all over the road and you'd be worried sick that you didn't end up either in the ditch or being hit head-on by another vehicle.

He knew a great deal about cars and it was always useful when something went wrong with your car, as he was really good at sorting problems out, particularly if you couldn't get your car to start, as was often the case with cars I owned, and usually first-thing in the morning if I was driving off somewhere in the middle of winter and it was cold and frosty. Also, if you were looking for a new car he would come with you and check out any car you might be consider buying and make some comment, either good or bad about a possible purchase. He would always ask you, if you were going on a long journey, "have you checked the oil, the tyres, water?" etc etc. All good advice, but it could get a bit tiresome at times.

When I was at Rushmoor School we used to have school on Saturday morning and he was supposed to come and collect me to bring me home afterwards. On several occasions he totally forgot to come and collect me and I was left standing on the pavement outside waiting patiently. He would no doubt be somewhere talking with someone or other and then realise he'd forgotten me. I think he had on one occasion actually gone home and my mother had asked him where I was, and he had to go all the way back to Bedford to collect me. It was on one such occasion when it was raining and I got soaked through, standing and waiting. All this long before mobile phones and being able to ring up or text, of course. It's amazing how we take such technology for granted. I'd love to know how he'd have responded to all the modern technology we have now, such as the internet, mobile phones and multi-channel television such as Sky. I think he would be overwhelmed by it all.

Dad had a passion for cars. Infact, almost anything mechanical or with an engine in it. Which would explain his ability to weld and to build the pedalled contraption already mentioned in this post. He had a variety of cars over the years. As we grew older, the need to have a vehicle which was merely a taxi to ferry us around, either to school or other places, became less and less. So be bought cars that were a little more, how should I say? Sporty? Built for speed? Probably. He had a Triumph Herald 12/50. A little green car. Quite a nifty little beast. But my father wasn't one to leave a car alone. He had to tinker with it and had twin carbs put on it, and extra dials added to the dashboard inside to measure R.P.M. etc. These refinements only made things more difficult when the car broke down. I remember driving with my mother to Fronton-On-Sea in this vehicle (see earlier post for description of our summer holidays on the Essex coast, particularly Frinton and Brightlingsea.) and this car kept over-heating. I think it was during a period of very hot weather. We had to stop in a lay-by somewhere en route, I think probably the Avenue of Remembrance near Colchester, and having to fill the radiator with water as the car was boiling over. I think it was definitely as a result of the 'extras' that had been added by my father. We didn't get much further on, only a couple more miles or so, and having to stop again to top up the radiator. You can imagine how long the journey took, as we had to wait for the radiator to cool down before taking off the cap to put water in. I can't remember where we got the water from. Probably we had to stop and ask at a petrol station or even a private house and no doubt we had a water can with us kept in the boot of the car.

A little later he bought a Triumph 1300 TC. I remember it was gray. He seemed to love it. For it's size and engine it was quite nifty as far as I remember. This was well before I passed my driving test, so I never actually got a chance to drive it. He then decided that my mother should have a car and he bought a second Triumph. This time a maroon colour. Well, as you would expect, my mother kept her in an immaculate condition. Inside and out were kept spotless. Meanwhile, my father's car was dirty. Well, living on a farm you expect there to be a lot of mud and other unmentionables. My mother stuck to driving on the roads. My father not only drove on the public highway but also drove around the farm on farm-tracks. More mud and manure. Also, he drove across fields, through the worst conditions imaginable and probably not the sort of conditions a car such as a Triumph 1300 TC was designed for. So no only the exterior of the car, but also it's interior became very dirty and unloved. Also, because it was driven across very uneven ground it seemed to effect the suspension or something and slowy and shortly it began to develop an annoying squeak as it was being driven. I don't suppose my father could hear it due to his deafness. To cap it all, because he smoked a pipe, and often when he was driving, the car began to fill up with rancid smoke and the smell of tobacco and the remnants of burnt tobacco. Which added not inconsiderably to the very run-down appearance of this vehicle.

Cars I've Owned- Part 1

Over the years I've owned many cars. Some I've loved, but many I have hated. You have a definite love/hate relationship with the car you own, basically because when they run smoothly, get you from point 'A' to point 'B' without any problems, when they decide not to behave, for example, refusing to start, or breaking down unexpectedly, they are more hated than loved. Most, if not all, the cars I've had have been second hand. I never seem to be in a position financially to afford a completely new vehicle, so the old cars I've had were prone to the usual faults such as refusing to start in cold or damp weather and one-hundred-and-one other problems. I suppose an older car is going to cause more problems than a brand new one because the bits and pieces, such as brakes, tyres, water pump, starter motor and so on are the bits that wear out fastest and so cause you the most problems.

Having been brought up on a farm does have it's advantages, particularly when you're starting to learn to drive. There is always space, or at least there was at Malting Farm in Cardington, I don't know whether all other farms are the same, allowing you to be able to drive a vehicle along farm tracks or across meadows and fields without encountering other vehicles. I was able to drive tractors which aren't exactly like driving a car as they have so many gears and sub-gears and far more levers to shift into these sub-gears. But at least I was able to drive such vehicles as Land Rovers which gave me a chance to do some driving, although off-road, before I was able to start driving lessons. 

The first car I owned was a Ford Anglia, the classic car from the 1950's- 1960's. I was working at the Everyman Theatre in Cheltenham in 1969 (see earlier post on here which gives a full  description.) Before I'd gone there I had been doing driving lessons and hadn't yet done my driving test. I don't know how many lessons I'd had, quite a few I seem to recall. My test was set to be during the summer break in the theatre's season so I went home to Bedfordshire. I probably took a few more lessons and then did the test. Unfortunately I failed miserably, on something quite trivial, like not turning right or left when told by the examiner, or keeping up with the traffic. I went back to Cheltenham and did a few more lessons there and did my test and this time I passed! As a result my parents bought me the Ford Anglia, which cost all of £75! I know, looking back, it doesn't seem possible that you could buy a car for so little! It was two-tone green, light on the top half and dark on the bottom half. It had quite a few quirks. One being the windscreen wipers. When you put them on, and you drove slowly, say, up a hill, in a rainstorm, they moved fast, but if you drove faster, for some strange reason they moved slowly. Why? Seems odd thinking about it now. On those old cars you had the headlight 'dip' control on the floor near the clutch pedal, unlike in a modern car where you control the 'dip' with a lever on the steering wheel column. I think it might even have had indicators which actually stuck out from the side of the car when you were going to turn either left or right and not just a flashing bulb on the four corners of the car. It's a wonder they never got knocked off when a bicycle or someone went past. Goodness, how cars have changed, but this is a good 45- or more years ago.

Of course, having a car was made use of as part of my stage management job. Moving on to work at Greenwich Theatre a few years after working at the Everyman Theatre in Cheltenham, as part of my work I had to return a lot of items which were used as props in a show we'd done. I had to load up the little Ford Anglia with no end of items and then drive into the centre of London and return the things to some of the prop hire companies around Covent Garden in particular. I had not been driving for very long and it was quite nerve wracking driving through Marble Arch, not knowing exactly where I was supposed to go and no sure which lane I was supposed to get into as well and looking at an A to Z Atlas of London which was open on the passenger seat beside me. It was quite hair-raising, to say the least. The best way to learn to do something that might be difficult is to just get on and do it, a good motto for life I always think. Spending to much time mulling it over is a good way of talking yourself out of it, so that incident driving through Central London certainly taught me a thing or two and came in handy a good deal later when I used to go in to London in my car when I used to do TV walk-on work and had to get to, say BBC Television Centre or any of the major television or film studios such as Pinewood or Shepperton.

On another occasion I had to drive a large van with a load of furniture into central London and was going to return it all to the various hire firms around the city and beyond. It was a rainy day, which didn't exactly help matters. I don't think I had ever driven such a large vehicle before and I think it must have been the largest vehicle you could drive on an ordinary driving licence. I soon found out that stopping the engine was no easy matter. You couldn't just use the key to turn it off when you wanted to park the vehicle. The only way to stop it was to stall it by shifting the gear stick and the clutch at the same time or something weird which made the lorry shudder horribly. I went with another stage management member to help me unload the furniture, which included a piano. Somewhere in Covent Garden (at a time when the fruit and vegetable market was still there.) it was a real knot of small alleyways and roads and I accidentally got into a one-way street- the wrong way, so I had to reverse the lorry quite a distance so as to get out and so get back into the correct flow of traffic. Not an easy manoeuvre at he best of times, but not helped by the fact that it was raining. My vehicle-driving experience was increased several times over that particular day.

I was always very keen to keep on the right side of the law. For some reason or other, one always gets somewhat edgy, almost guilty, for whatever reason, when you are out driving somewhere and you see a police car, when you're absolutely sure you've done nothing wrong. On one occasion, when I was working at Greenwich, when I'd gone home for the weekend and was driving back to work fairly early one Monday morning. The route required me to go through the Blackwall Tunnel. I never like driving through tunnels at the best of times, but I had to go and ignore an instruction on a reading or one of those overhead gantry things, which told me to move over into a different lane. I just drove on and didn't move over to a different lane and I got stopped by a Police car, pulled over to the side of the road. I didn't have my driving licence with me and was told I'd have to go into a Police station and show my licence. I was numb with fear. I don't know why. I don't think, up until then,  had ever set foot in a police station. So, I did as I was told and a few days later I did just that, produced my licence at the police station somewhere in or around the Greenwich area, was told to not do 'it' again, and went away, fully warned off. I don't think, after that, I ever ignored an instrucion as regards driving in the right lane ever again.

As for hating any cars I've owned one was a bright red Ford Escort estate. Bought from a neighbour. It was a real pain to get started, particularly when the weather was damp or cold. I tried to remedy it with such things as new spark plugs, battery leads and other bits and pieces that I replaced, but all to no avail. It was worse when it was damp, even when there was no rain. Those cold, misty mornings, a slight drizzle, you name it, the confounded thing refused to start. Even having a tow from someone else's vehicle and jump starting, it would not start. So much so I just lost my temper and gave the confounded thing a good kick. A bit like that famous scene in "Fawlty Towers" when Basil Fawlty can't get his car to start and hits it with a branch of a tree. It's almost always when you need to get somewhere in a hurry, early morning, have to get to work. The thing had an almighty dent in it's side for ever after. I'm not surprised I lost patience with it. Stupid thing.

My Mum and Dad- Part 2

My father was a good engineer. I think he had to become a farmer because he was an only child, and a son, and his father had been a farmer. I don't remember my paternal grandfather. He died sometime in the early 1950's when I would have been far too young to remember him. The same for my maternal grandmother. My dad was forever working on something or other for the farm in his workshop. He was good with anything mechanical, car engines, boat engines, constructing the most peculiar gadgets in order to lift grain in one of the sheds during harvest-time. He constructed a sort of four-wheeled bicycle (if that makes sense. It doesn't, I know, but just let me explain.) It was for us four youngest brothers to ride and pedal, a sort of four-wheeled car with proper steering and with a sort of framework. Quite difficult to steer for what I remember. It was a bit like a tandem but with four wheels. I don't remember it being much of a success. I think it went out on the road around Cardington and then landed up in a ditch or something and then spent a couple of decades in the back of the garage and never went out again because it was damaged. I don't know what became of it or whether it was broken up for scrap but it must have taken a great deal of time and effort to build. He was extremely good at welding and finding ways to solve problems mechanically. If you had a way of solving a problem with your car he always knew how to fix it. If you were going to buy a car he was the best person to take with you when you were looking at what to buy and could always haggle and get a good bargain, not just with cars, but virtually anything. I don't think he ever bought anything without managing to get something off the price.

He was somewhat accident-prone. He would fiddle about with machinery on the farm, particularly during harvest when some machine or other would break down. He managed to get a finger cut quite seriously on the sharp knives in the bailer.  I think today he would have got into trouble with the Health and Safety Executive, but this would have been long before all the business you hear today about 'Health and Safety.' I reckon he would have had the book thrown at him, the number of  accidents he was involved in on the farm. On another occasion he was working on the horse box out in the yard somewhere. I think it was near enough Sunday lunch-time. He had to repair one of the tyres or a wheel on this horse-box and had the wheel off and the whole thing sitting on a few bricks or blocks of wood. The thing collapsed and so injured one of his fingers he had to have it amputated and always ever-after had one or two joints on this finger missing. He was profoundly deaf. This was caused during a time, most likely during the winter months when they used gas-guns on the farm to scare off pigeons from the crops. He would go to a field and take the entire gas-gun away in the back of the Land Rover and on this occasion presumably he hadn't put the safety catch on the timer and the thing exploded in the back of the Land Rover and the explosion damaged his inner-ear. He never recovered from this and was really deaf for the rest of his life. It must have completely damaged his inner-ear. He did wear a hearing aid, when he could remember to wear it, which was not very often, but he had real problems setting the thing so it wouldn't pick up extraneous sounds, such as background noise.

My mother was an excellent cook. Her shortbread was the best ever. I believe she had the recipe passed on by an elderly aunt on my father's side of the family. Scottish, of course. My own cooking abilities are due to her teaching and I think I can produce a good roast dinner, thanks mainly to my mother. In particular, the making of Yorkshire pudding. Her teas at around 4-5 every day were a real feature and people would drop in to sample her Victoria sponges, shortbread and a wide range of other cakes and pies. She was passionate about horses and was an excellent rider. In her later years she was involved with Riding For The Disabled and was very much instrumental in establishing this organisation in Bedfordshire. We had various horses and ponies around the farm from quite a young age. My brothers went to local gymkhanas and show jumping events and also, when my parents had mares from which they bred foals, these mares and foals were shown at local agricultural shows, such as the East of England Show in Peterborough over most years. She took a great deal of interest in all her children and went with me on several occasions when I had interviews when I was starting off in theatre. She went with me to the Everyman Theatre, Cheltenham for example, when I had my very first interview for a job in 1969 and she would never need much encouraging to go with me to the theatre or to see a film that was on in the cinema locally.