My Life

Life Story of David James Johnson in chronological order

1946 to 2023

(I`m not dead yet, but haven`t got any further)     (NO OFFENCE INTENDED TO ANYONE MENTIONED IN THE BLOG)

I was born on the 2nd of November 1946... The place was Hammersmith Hospital, London. The midwife told my mother, `If you’re not careful he will be ruling you` (a common prediction made by midwives about boys in 1946) My mother’s name was Violet Georgina Johnson (Gould) and my father's name Roland Thaxter Johnson. My parents were married in 1943. My mother’s first husband was in the merchant navy and died in China only three months after they were married.

Notification to my mother that her 1st husband had died. 
They had only been married a few months

                    1947

The Johnson tribe many years ago

As far as I recall we moved to Kettering in Northamptonshire, where my father’s family and relations lived. We lived in Regent Street next to my second cousins Paul and Jane Sharp. I recall my Grandmother and someone known as Auntie Abe My grandfather had died when my father was young. My father had many relations and friends in the town. As far as I can remember I was happy living there and remember smiling faces, riding my tricycle, chickens at the end of the garden, playing with my cousins, and trips to Wickstead Park.

Me and Paul Sharp. My 2nd Cousin in Kettering

I also have memories of my mother being unwell with TB and being sent to a hospital in Rushden for treatment, but they could do nothing for her. I was sent to a children’s home for six months. All I remember of the time there was lying in bed and watching moths on the window. Later my family left Kettering and all I remember was leaving Regent Street in Kettering and people waving us off. We moved to Fulham in London where we shared a house with my mother’s brother and his family. I later learned it was my mother's wish to move back to London where she could be with her friends. The address was  Walham Grove, Fulham. My two first cousins Kathleen and Sylvia lived downstairs so I had someone to play with. It seems my father who was a clicker (shoe trade) by trade became an estate porter. I believe he was not happy living in London but did so to make my mother happy. It was not too long before my mother’s health deteriorated; she had TB in one lung. She needed an operation, as there were no drugs available in the early fifties to treat TB. I had also contracted primary TB, caught by my mother and had a shadow on my lung. My mother was sent to a sanatorium at Ventnor on the Isle of Wight where she had a lung removed and remained there for eighteen months.

Auntie Abb and my Grandmother in Kettering

My Father

I was taken to a special children’s home, north of London in Harpenden, where they looked after children with consumption (TB).  It must have been about 1951/52. I remember being driven there in a big black car and then being left, I was four years old. There were many children there of different ages. I must have been one of the youngest. I started school there and my teacher was called Miss Baverstock. She had a friend called Miss Arrowsmith, two very English names. I remember my teacher telling the class that the King had died (George IV died 6th February 1952) and on another day that we might see an airship in the sky. There was a gardener called Mr Fox and every Sunday we had bread and dripping for Sunday lunch. I also found a friend. Her name was Diane Williams and we played together.

I believe there must have been happy times but I remember being unhappy and crying a lot. There was a boy there called Tom Walsh who was the bully of the home. The rest of us were not allowed to do anything without his permission. If we did his henchmen dealt with us. I remember going for a walk and picking blackberries and then being told by his henchmen they were Tom Walsh’s blackberries and he had not given permission for me to pick them. I can remember sitting on the floor surrounded by older boys shouting at me because I got undressed before being given permission, I was sobbing. I can only remember my dad coming to see me once or twice, but once we put on a presentation for parents and I had to stand up and recite, without reading, the poem `The naughty gnome in fairyland. ` I can still remember it to this day. I was in the children’s home when the first TV was delivered; it was a big machine. We all sat on the floor to watch it. The programme was a Western the good cowboy was dressed in white and the bad one in black. The nurse who switched the TV on was nervous about the screen and frightened to touch it. TV was new to everybody.

In Wickstead Park, Kettering with Dad

Toddler in Kettering

Mum, Dad, Grandmother and Auntie Abb and me (Kettering)

School in the Harpenden children's home
The back row first on the left

I`m sitting on the bottom row last on the right

After a year and a half, my mother and father came to collect me. I was taken home by Greenline bus back to London. My mother had survived tuberculosis, which was still a killer in those days. Many of the other people she had been in hospital with had died some quite young. However, with one lung she continued to smoke twenty cigarettes a day and did this for the rest of her life. In those days the popular belief was that smoking was harmless and some people said it was good for you

 My mother and myself

I attended an infant/Junior school called Halford Road, in Fulham just a five-minute walk away from the house. It was an old Victorian school. One of the infant teachers was called Miss Belliss she was probably a Mrs I remember one incident in the playground when I was playing with another boy who lifted a drain cover in the playground and let in fall on my fingers. I cried all night in pain with two blackened nails. Our neighbour, Dolly May, who hated children came out and shouted to my mum telling her to keep that child quiet. My mum threw the window open and shouted down that I was in pain.

Eventually, I went into a junior school. In those days at lunchtime,, we could go out for a walk if we wanted to. Cemeteries fascinated us as children and near the school, there was a really large one, I think it was called the Brompton Cemetery. Four of us would go looking in the family crypts we could see the coffins if we looked through the windows. Twice we forgot all about time and were late back for school. Our teacher warned us we would go to the Headmaster if we were late again. The next time we went out we planned not to be late, but none of us had wristwatches and we were enjoying ourselves so much that we arrived back half an hour late for afternoon lessons. The four of us were sent to the Headmaster Mr Davis. He lined us all up and got out his cane that he called his blood cane. We all received one stroke each on the hand. Charles Crisp and Peter Nolan cried me and Kenneth Cogdale did not. We never arrived back late for lessons again. I remember a nice teacher called Miss Carter and later in the final year our teacher was a Mr Polyblank. The other male teachers in the school were Mr Twelvetrees and Mr Birchenaugh. and Mr Gray. They were all very grumpy strict teachers who we all feared, except for Mr Gray (one of Mr Gray’s jokes I still remember) Mr Polyblank often used to take us boys out of the classroom and give us the slipper. I had it several times. When we went for the Games lesson it was a walk of about two miles through busy streets. Our teacher, Mr Polyblank would drive his Ford Popular alongside us, shouting instructions as we all walked along the pavement because he didn’t want to walk himself. I failed my eleven + examination but learnt to play chess and on leaving Halford Road gained entry to a new comprehensive called Holland Park that was supposed to give hope to children like me who had failed their eleven-plus. The idea being that the late developers had the opportunity to succeed despite failing that examination. I must have failed pretty miserably because I was put in 3D3 well in the lower strata.


Early days at Walham Grove in London. 1940 before I was born.  Pat the dog belonged to my mother. Later Pat died in an accident with a car

My Mum, Grandmother & my Uncle
Dennis

My cousins Kay & Sylvia. My Aunty Joyce on Putney Heath

Next door over the wall the two houses
were completely destroyed by a German
bomb.

Waltham Grove garden on my bike

Holidays in the fifties were at holiday camps. This is Corton
Holiday Camp on the East coast of England (David bottom right)

Life in Walham Grove living in the same house as my cousins was good until we fell out which we used to do on a regular basis. My cousins Kathleen and Sylvia were kept under strict control. They were not allowed to play in the street only the garden and never on a Sunday. Whereas I could play in the street. My best friend was Peter Riddell who lived around the corner in Farm Lane. We became friends after I had broken his sisters skipping rope by riding over the handle with my bicycle. She had shouted at me and Peter came out to tell me not to take any notice of her. We were both interested in football and together with another friend called Bobby Peters used to go to Eelbrook Common near Fulham Broadway every Saturday morning to play football. We would get very thirsty and would race each other to the water fountain to drink. If we had enough money we would buy a bottle of Tizer and share it, sometimes falling out in the process. When we were about 10years old we both acquired bikes and started going for cycle rides, at first around the streets, then further afield with trips to London Airport ( later called Heathrow )and Windsor. My very first bike was a black machine that my father bought for £3. Later my Mum bought me a brand new Raleigh with 5 gears from Day’s cycles in Fulham Broadway for £20. Much later I sold the Raleigh and bought a Viking with drop handlebars, I always remember the paintwork-changing colour every time it rained. It was just a poor quality finish, not a gimmick. Peter had a cycle called a Hercules, which he was very proud of. I used to play with my cousins Kathleen and Sylvia in the garden. We had a shed at the bottom of the garden, which we called the club hut. We used to furnish it and make it habitable and have meetings in there. My cousin’s father who I called Uncle Dennis (My mother's brother) strongly disapproved of me and didn’t like some of the things I did. To compound this he didn’t like my father either; they had had words about us children. I remember wanting Uncle Dennis to like me and I found him interesting. I remember him breaking up his luminous fishing float and burying it in the soil because he said it contained radioactivity. Also when we children found an injured bird he put it out of its misery by filling a bucket with water and drowning the creature by putting the bird at the bottom of the bucket with a heavy stone on top. Next door was built a block of flats to replace the two houses that were completely destroyed during World War 2. When the bomb dropped it had killed the people living there. They were initially for police accommodation and a family moved in with a son called Peter Anderson. My cousins immediately took a liking to him; I think he was considered middle class and his father was a police inspector. He had immediate approval from my cousin’s parents and they were allowed to play with him, whereas they were sometimes not allowed to play with me. Sometimes my cousins and the new boy would gang up against me. However one day he took an axe and chopped the bark from a huge tree in the corner of his garden. The result was that sometime later the tree died because the sap couldn’t rise, the tree became dangerous and contractors had to be brought in to remove it. One of the men was badly injured during this operation. Many years later I heard Peter was taking drugs and a rebel, so I heard but believe he was a musician with talent. 



Peter Ridell and me. The Hillman Minx belonged to a Mr Slater who was a boy`s club leader and used to take us out. We had both joined the Brunswick Boys Club and Mr Slater took a special interest in Peter and me. He became a friend of my mum and we even went on holiday with him. We held him in high esteem, until one day he went mad by swearing in front of us boys after catching a fish and losing it because he got his fishing line tangled up with our lines.

Mr Slater. We never knew his first name

Playing football at Eel Brook Common. Peter Riddell, Bobby
Peters and I played football every Saturday morning.

One hobby I enjoyed was fishing for sticklebacks. A friend and I would take jam jars and nets on sticks and catch the 28 bus from North End Road to Kensington Gardens. We would walk around the Round Pond catching the tiny fish. Any caught would be put in the jars. Getting back home on the bus was a problem with some conductors not allowing us on board with nets and jars. The fish were kept in the jars in the garden where eventually the poor creatures died through lack of oxygen in the water. I would remove them from the jar and leave them on the windowsill until they turned into skeletons. It was an excellent biology lesson.

I used to play football and cricket and more mischievous games like Knock Down Ginger which consisted of banging on someone’s door then hiding and watching the poor householder open the door to discover no one was there. I had several friends living in the street or around the corner and when I wanted someone to play with I would walk along the road shouting, `All out, all out, company`. Usually, a friend would come out to play. I used to have a lot of free time when I was not in school. Life was not structured like it is for many children today with parents running their children to various activities in the car. We had to create our own games and adventures. My mother had a job in Victoria as a secretary in an import/export company, working for Mr Reynolds. My dad seemed to be always at work. I was left on my own most of the time. One day when I had nothing to do I went out onto the flat roof, which was open at both ends and very high up. On the roof was the house's huge cold-water tank. It had a wooden lid on. I removed the lid and played happily with my boats on the water. It was deep and I could make waves, and make things sink. I soon discovered the ball cock. On pushing the ball underwater, water would gush out the valve. It was great fun until suddenly the ball detached itself from the valve gear and the water gushed out and there was no way to stop it. I didn’t know anything about overflows. I got into a terrible sobbing panic and there was no one in the house to tell. I phoned my mum at work but could not explain myself for sobbing. She called the fire brigade and eventually with sirens sounding a large red fire engine arrived complete with helmeted firemen. By that time a neighbour had seen me distressed in the street and stopped the gushing water with a piece of string.

School Photographs

 

Age 8

Age 9

Age 10

Age 11







Age 13



Age 15



I was happy, then one day my father went to see the doctor. They said he had blood pressure and wanted him in hospital for tests. I remember him jumping into an ambulance that was collecting people. After a week I was allowed to go and see him. He was so cheerful and looked so well. Another week went by and my mother was asked to go and see the doctor. When she returned I was playing cricket in the street and by the look on her face, I knew something was wrong. When I went indoors she told me Dad was very ill. I didn’t ask any more questions but I kept thinking about him dying and for the first time I felt anxious and felt like I had a weight on my head and couldn’t really enjoy anything properly. I was allowed to go and see my dad once more and was shocked to see how ill he had become. I found it very difficult to cry but would do so secretly at night. One morning my mum came and told me Dad had gone from us and left me to cry. The funeral took place and I wasn’t allowed to go. I returned from school to a house full of people and remember thinking how happy they all looked. 

My father's death certificate

My mother`s parents and Pat the dog
outside 16, Walham Grove before WW2.
It was sold foe over 2million in 2020

My mother started to attend church sometimes and she also joined a TB club. The members were all people who had suffered from that dreaded illness. I was allowed to go and we would meet in each other’s houses. I was the only child and we would play cards, lotto, and draughts and talk. Most of the members were also smokers including my mother who only had one lung. The dangers of tobacco were not widely known. I remember it was about that time when the plane carrying the Man United football crashed killing many of the key players. I was very cut up about this especially when Duncan Edwards died from his injuries some weeks later. I was a keen football fan and supported Chelsea and used to go to home matches regularly at Stamford Bridge. Although we lived in Fulham, Chelsea’s ground was closer. The first game I ever went to see was Chelsea v Portsmouth. It was a one-all draw but I was hooked by the colour and atmosphere of the game. It cost us, children, 9p and adults 2 shillings to get in. Players were earning £20 a week at that time. Sometimes we used to go over to Craven Cottage to watch Fulham; they were in the second division. I remember seeing Jimmy Hill and Johnny Haynes playing also the great Stanley Matthews during his later years.


My Uncle Dennis who lived in the bottom flat with his wife Joyce and daughters Kathleen and Sylvia found himself a girlfriend and separation was on the cards. He decided to leave his wife. My mother was thinking about buying her own house after the death of my father. The house we lived in belonged to Uncle Fred who was quite old. He did not live there but worked in a hotel in the West End and on his rest day, which was a Monday, spent the day with Dennis and Joyce. The house had always been in the Gould family and Fred in his will would be leaving it to Dennis and my Mum. When Dennis left the house he relinquished his share to Joyce who would look after Fred on his retirement. In 1959 Mum decided to buy a property off Lower Richmond Road in Putney. She relinquished the house in Fulham and it was left to Joyce who lives there to this day. The house is now worth nearly a million pounds. We moved to a house off the Lower Richmond Road across the River Thames. I lived there with my mother. I was allowed to buy a dog. I visited the pet shop and there were several puppies in the window. I selected a quiet sandy coloured puppy that I christened Sandy.

George and I started playing tennis 1960



 Me and Sandy on holiday in a caravan
Age 14

 My mother also decided to take in lodgers. I was fourteen and the man of the house. I would help my mother get the rooms ready for occupation. I refurbished the attic room building a kitchen in the room that held the water tank. I was very proud of this piece of work. I also became very keen on woodwork and spent hours in the cellar making things for the house. One of the jobs I did was painting the window frames on the outside and used a blowlamp to remove the old paint. Whilst doing this on the upstairs from the outside window was slightly open and I watched the net curtains go up in flames. Eventually, the house was full of paying guests. One of those guests was a man called George who had the attic room. He seemed to have time for me and used to invite me up for a chat, tea and a chocolate biscuit. He also loved dogs and would join me in exercising Sandy every evening. We got on well and soon he spent many evenings downstairs with my mother and me. It wasn’t long before he became part of the family with him having meals with us and eventually, he moved downstairs sleeping in my bedroom, so his room could be re-let. He also introduced me to tennis, as there were courts just around the corner. He used to work for an advertising agency. J Walter Thomson and travel by number 22 bus from Putney Common to central London. One night after a heavy meal in 1961 he felt unwell and had pains in his chest and couldn’t get his breath. My mother called the doctor who said it was probably only flu and didn’t bother coming round. It turned out to be a heart attack. After a spell in hospital, he had to take blood-thinning drugs and another drug called TNT, which he took when he got a pain in the chest on exertion if he tried to walk too fast. He was only 45years old, but smoked at least 20 cigarettes a day and didn't stop after the heart attack. No one knew the harmful effect of smoking.

George and Sandy



28 Wymond Street, Putney... age 14 with mum

My mother decided to buy a car. Morris 1000 traveller FPG 338. My mother hadn’t got the confidence to drive, I was only 14 years old, so George said he would take lessons. He went to the BSM. After several lessons and two attempts, he passed his test. He could now drive my mum’s car but didn’t have a clue about what went on under the bonnet. He had a friend called Derek who was a chauffeur; we used to go out with Derek sometimes. I used to feel relaxed and happy when Derek was driving because he was a professional driver, but when George drove I used to think it was my last journey. He had to overtake, found it difficult to regulate his speed and wasn’t in command of what he was doing. The number of times we slowly overtook other cars on blind bends, it's only by luck I’m here to tell the tale. In 1961 motorways and dual carriageways were in short supply and the age of the family motorist was only just beginning. There were large numbers of accidents on Britain’s roads due to no MOT testing, poor roads and lack of roadcraft by many drivers who were only just joining the car fraternity. One definition of the family motorist was `They tend to cling to the centre of the road with a yellow canary swinging in the back window `. I don’t know where the quote came from but it sounds a bit like Malcolm Muggeridge.

Mum on a trip to the New Forest
at Ashurst. She was amused at the
name of the pub. On the other side,
there was a pub called the Happy Cheese

My main hobby at that time was fishing. I used to dream of catching fish and would often go fishing at the weekend. Sometimes on my own or with Peter. We would strap our rods to our bikes and cycle to Teddington Lock on the River Thames where we would fish from the bank all day. When we got bored we’d cycled along the tow-path and find another spot. Our bait was maggots which were available from most fishing shops. The fish we caught if we were lucky were mainly Roach and Dace. We stored them in a keep net and released them at the end of the day to be caught another day. Course fish were not really edible, except for the two predators Pike and Perch. I remember once catching a Perch by spinning with a spoon in a reservoir. I took it home for tea.

Morris Minor Traveller. My mum and I and the two dogs

George was very keen on dogs and suggested we buy another dog, this time a pedigree. We travelled somewhere north of London to buy an Irish Setter. Her kennel name was Amberhurst Salina but her pet name was Ruffee because of her beautiful red chestnut hair. We now had two dogs. Once Ruffee had emerged from the puppy stage George and I would take the two dogs for regular walks to Richmond Park where they could run off the lead. We would often walk to the Pen Ponds. One very cold day when the ponds were frozen Sandy chased a duck out onto the ice. I desperately tried calling him back but he took no notice. I dreaded the ice breaking, but he managed to return to the bank safely. On another occasion he chased a herd of deer in ever-decreasing circles, I thought my dog and myself might get banned from Richmond Park. The two dogs kept each other company and sometimes when we went out in the car the dogs were left behind. Once on returning home somehow, the dogs had managed to open up the fridge door and there was half-eaten food all over the floor. My mother went wild and I can still visualise her having a tug of war with Sandy who had the Sunday joint in his mouth.

Peter, my friend had moved with his family from Fulham to Mordon. It was about six miles from my house. I used to cycle there to see him, up Putney Hill, passed the Green Man Pub, across Wimbledon Common and down Wimbledon Hill. It would take me about thirty-five minutes. We would go out on our bikes or just stay in his house. He had two sisters and a brother and I liked visiting his house because it seemed so full of life, there was always something going on. One day while I was there I fell off my bike after skidding on the gravel. I must have cut myself quite badly because when I went home I was covered with plasters but it was nice having my wounds dressed by his sisters. Peter who was 18 months older than me acquired a motorbike. It was a Francis Barnett 125cc 2 stroke with a fairing on the front. Peter’s father had 1000cc Vincent with a sidecar and he was always in the garage tinkering with it.

Peter's Francis Barnet 125cc

In the summer of 1961, my Mum, George and I went on holiday to the New Forest, staying on a farm at Mockbeggar just outside Ringwood. My mother got on very well with the landlady and it was a great holiday. I went fishing in the Hampshire Avon but got thrown off the bank by the gamekeeper. He was known as Colonel Crow and had an Alsatian Dog and issued tickets for that stretch of water. The Avon was carefully controlled being the top course-fishing river in the south of England and I had broken the rules by allowing my Mum and George to sit on the bank while I was fishing. It was such an enjoyable holiday that I remember being tearful when it was time to return home. Mum and George must have enjoyed it too because it wasn’t long before Mum decided to buy a property in the area and move away from London. I was so excited at the prospect of moving to the country. It would mean I would have to leave Holland Park and start a new school. George would have to find a new job and we would have to sell the house in London and buy another near Ringwood. It wasn’t long before we were house hunting, I believe we looked at an ordinary bungalow first then saw this property in Horton Road a couple of miles outside the town opposite a hotel called the Struan. The property was made of Cedarwood; it certainly had character and had an acre of ground. My mother made an offer of £4700, which was accepted. The estate agent known as Donald Brown lived next door. The house was known as Petherton Cottage. My mother couldn’t sell the house in London, she was asking £4500. In the end, she let it with the rent covering the mortgage on it. She also had several other properties in London and Kettering, that were let, all inherited from my father. In those days owning property didn’t mean you were wealthy and rents were low.

Petherton Cottage near Ringwood

The winter of 62/63 was one of the coldest on record

Petherton Cottage, Ashley Heath, near Ringwood

I remember leaving Holland Park and feeling I was going to the other side of the world. The evening before we left Peter and me went for a cycle ride to Richmond Park. The next day the removal van was loaded and set off for the New Forest. We three drove in the Morris 1000 Traveller. A few days later my mum took me for an interview at the local Secondary School. I had been working hard at school in London and was coming top in many subjects in my class, but the comprehensive system had been letting me down because there was no room for me to move up. Mum wanted me to take O levels, but there was no chance in London as I was trapped in the technical stream. Somehow at the interview with the Head. I was allowed to enter the G stream. The G stood for grammar. I was due to start my new school in January 1962. I worried myself all through the Christmas holidays wanting to leave rather than begin a new school. I felt socially inadequate and at the time did not like meeting and talking to new people. The sort of jobs that appealed to me were in forestry or gamekeeping. Anywhere I could hide from other people. George was told he shouldn’t have moved to the area without a job when he went to the Labour Exchange in Ringwood. He eventually found employment with a firm in Verwood that made radiators. He did clerical work, mainly accounts, and his wage was in the region of £15 a week. He paid mum £3 a week for his keep. He also had the use of the Morris Traveller to use for work.

George and Derek gardening at Petherton Cottage 1964

I started school catching the school bus just outside the new house. I soon settled into my new class, all my fears being unfounded. The other students accepted me and I felt quite popular, having had my growth spurt, which put me head and shoulders above many of the other boys. I found the work very different, more academic, but I discovered I understood most of my lessons, apart from Mathematics where the class was doing Geometry and I was totally in the dark. For the first time, I was given homework which I enjoyed doing. I seemed to progress and felt maturity in my veins. For the first time, I detected that girls were interested in me and this added to my confidence but embarrassed me and I didn’t know what to do about it. Girls were a total mystery, I didn’t know how to talk to them or behave in their company. They seemed to be giggling all the time and I didn’t understand why. I was completely self-motivated with my school work and don’t remember having much discussion or help from my mother or George. Things that I had never understood started to become clear it was a new beginning and I think I was enjoying it.

Ringwood School football team 1962

We still had the two dogs, Sandy and Rufee they now had an acre of garden to use, but could get through the fence in places. Rufee was very good and usually stayed in the garden, but Sandy was more of an adventurer and used to go off on his own. In those days many dogs roamed about on their own, there were no dog wardens to worry about and far less traffic. Opposite Petherton Cottage there was a hotel called the Struan. Sandy would often spend his time over there. One day the cook put a hot cottage pie on the windowsill to cool. Sandy ate the lot, but it was sometime later that the owners told my mother. One day Ruffee decided to join Sandy on one of his trips but was hit by a car whilst crossing the road and her leg was injured. Not too seriously but she never ventured out on her own again. The funny thing was she suddenly resented Sandy going out and when he returned after an afternoon away she would growl and try to bite him. Sandy had to lie down behind a chair while she calmed down.

The Struan Hotel in Horton Road. Demolished in 2000

Sandy and Ruffy

Sandy and Rufee at Petherton Cottage 1962

Peter, George and Me at Petherton Cottage 1962

I was fifteen years old and started missing London and my friend Peter who I used to spend a lot of time with. He used to write to me and we started sending tape reeled messages to each other. We thought we were technically advanced doing this. I had a tape recorder that fitted to the deck of a record player. It was a new innovation at the time. He started being invited to several parties and because I had moved couldn’t go. I remember feeling very deprived and wished I had never left London. Peter was older than me used to ride his Francis Barnet motorcycle all the way to Ringwood to see me and spend the weekend at Petherton. Later he bought a BSA C15 and when he came down I would ride a pillion. We would go all over the place. It was about this time that I went out with my first girlfriend. Her name was Hazel Thompson and she was from my school. I don’t know how I managed to ask her out, but I kept it a secret from Mum and George. I was ashamed and embarrassed about going out with a girl. We went to the local cinema in Ringwood and saw `Mutiny on the Bounty with Marlon Brando. We sat in the back row and halfway through the film I put my arm around her. She didn’t seem to mind and I remember she smelt strongly of talc powder. Sadly it was only once as a school friend, Peter Randal rang my home left a message with my mother and mentioned my girlfriend, Hazel Thompson. My mother and George gave me the message with big grins. I felt so bad I never spoke to the poor girl again. In those days relationships were never talked about, people were embarrassed about all sorts of things. There was no sex education at school, there was no sex on television. Young people were totally confused about relationships.

When we first moved to Ringwood I will always remember the telephone. In London, we had a big black phone with a dial. At Petherton, there was the same type of phone without a dial. If you wanted to make a call you had to lift the receiver and wait for the operator to ask what number you required. Sometimes if you were a young person the operator could be quite rude if she were feeling in a bad mood. I remember waiting for ages for the operator to answer than tapping the handset switches. The operator eventually came on and severely told me off because she had been busy and asked me if my mother knew I was using the phone. Telecommunications even in those days was advancing rapidly and it wasn’t long before a phone with a dial was installed. We could dial our numbers and even make things called trunk calls to other parts of the country. Conversations had to be brief, not long `It's fun to talk` exchanges with friends. Calls were expensive and even at fifteen, I appreciated that my mother had to pay for them.

Because we had such a big garden we decided to keep chickens. I fenced off a big area at the back of the garden and Mum bought a hen house. Some Road-island Reds and White Leghorns were bought. It was fun collecting the eggs once the hens started laying. The downside was when the neighbour's dog called Tyke that was a mixture between a large poodle and alsatian, attacked the hens. It killed one and tore all the feathers from another. I remember an argument developed with the neighbour ( he was the estate agent who had sold us the property, Donald Brown ) him saying it was a fox, not his dog. The dead hen was buried in the garden and the bald hen grew new feathers. I couldn’t look at the bald hen because it looked so strange.

Riding Miriam`s horse in Petherton Cottage garden

I still had the Viking sports bike I used in London but was becoming tired of cycling. I wanted a motorbike. In those days at sixteen, a person could learn on a motorcycle up to 250cc. I couldn't wait to be old enough to apply for a licence. I had a friend at school who was crazy about motorbikes and his father ran the motorbike shop in Ringwood. ( Craze Brothers) He tried to persuade me to buy a 125cc. I wouldn't listen to good advice. My mum wouldn't give me the money but allowed me to advertise a complete set of Chambers Encyclopedia which she had bought me. Just before Christmas 1962,  I managed to sell them for £40. I then ordered a secondhand a 1956 250cc BSA C12 by post that I had never seen from a firm in London. Eventually, it arrived at Ashley Heath railway station all wrapped up in cardboard. I walked down the road to the station and pushed it back to the house. It was a strange feeling owning a motorbike and I think I was a bit scared at the thought of riding it. I was terrified it was going to breakdown because I had read so many motor mechanics magazines and the things that can go wrong. I remember being obsessed with it overheating and the engine seizing up and kept feeling the heat of the engine with my hand. I rode it to school a few times and felt very grown-up, but got told off by the lollipop lady for passing her stop sign. Peter came to stay and we both went out on our motorbikes to Lulworth Cove. It was in the middle of winter and I didn’t wear any gloves. On returning home whilst warming my hands I had severe hot-ache and can still remember the pain. Then we had what turned out to be an exceptional winter with one of the highest snowfalls on record. The snow froze and stayed on the roads for weeks. I was grounded and couldn’t use my bike, which upset me. Then one day I decided to take my bike out and ride between the narrow tracks in the road free from ice and snow. I rode carefully for several miles then came to a road junction where there were no tracks. I applied the brakes but the bike went out of control, slid across the road and I finished up in a ditch with the machine on top. I wasn’t hurt but I couldn’t get up. I had to stay there until a lady came by with a pram who stopped, raised the bike just enough for me to wriggle out. The winter of 1962/3 turned out to be one of the coldest with the heaviest snowfalls since 1947. I was always very keen to use a bike when I could.  My uncle Dennis, his new wife Eileen came to stay. Mum and George took them for a day out in the car. I decided to follow on my bike. It started to pour with rain. Suddenly the bike lost power and came to a stop. It wouldn’t start and George called the A.A. The patrolman turned up on a motorbike with a side-car. He soon diagnosed water in the petrol, drained some petrol/water from carburettor and I was on my way. We went through a town called Puddletown and by this time it was dark and I had put my headlights on. The engine died again, this time the fault was caused by the dynamo not producing enough electricity to charge the battery. I needed headlights for the journey so had to leave the bike at a garage and return home in the car. The following weekend George took me back to Puddletown and I rode the bike home in daylight. The bike needed a new generator, also a front tyre. The London firm had sold me the bike with a worn tyre. There were no MOT's for vehicles in those early days. The bike was under guarantee so I sent the parts back. The firm kept me waiting weeks before they sent me new parts, I was very upset because I couldn’t use the bike.

My mother bought a caravan on a site called Sandyballs
near Fordingbridge which she let to holidaymakers

I was studying hard for my GCE`s but I don’t remember feeling any pressure. Education was one facet of your life no more important than any other and you took it in your stride. I believe I wanted to do well but didn’t really expect to. I wanted, however, to give it my best shot so continued working hard. It was about this time leading up to my exams that growth started to appear on one of my testicles. It was small at first but gradually got bigger. I just ignored it until it started making me feel uncomfortable. I was too embarrassed to tell my mother and just put up with it. There was a great deal of self-blame in those days and people tended to keep more things to themselves. Sometimes called the stiff upper lip. It was there when I sat my exams and it wasn’t until after I had finished that I plucked up the courage to say something. My mother rang the doctor, Doctor Dean, who came out to take a look. I remember he immediately phoned Salisbury Infirmary and made an appointment for me to attend. I went for tests that included lancing the apses inside my scrotum. I also had a tube put up my back passage, and x-rays were taken. I don’t remember being alarmed or worried. After the tests, I went back to school and remember playing tennis then coming home and coughing up blood. I attended my follow up appointment to be told I had Tuberculosis in both lungs, one kidney and one testicle, I was very ill. The doctors were cross with my mother for not recognising the symptoms earlier and thought there was an outbreak of TB. When she explained I had had it before, they were less concerned. However, everyone at my school was offered an X-ray who might have been in contact. I felt terrible and thought I would be an invalid for life with a humpback.

But medicine had moved on since my mother’s TB. It was 1963 and drugs had been developed that could give a cure. I was told I would have to enter a sanatorium and remain there until I was discharged. Mum and George took me in the car to a place called Harnham near Salisbury. I was put straight to bed in a ward full of old men who were coughing and spitting. For four months I wasn’t allowed out of bed. Everyday injection was given in my bottom and I had to swallow the largest pills I had ever seen. I was a bit of a novelty with the staff because they were used older men not teenagers. In fact, the other men in the ward were told not to use bad language because of my age. I was sixteen. We were encouraged to eat well because TB was a wasting disease and we needed to make new tissue. A few years before those people with TB had to spend years in a sanatorium trying to get well on fresh air and good food. Many died and others after years in a Sanatorium found adapting to life outside difficult. I guess I was lucky because I doubt I would have survived in my state without modern medicine. I remember an elderly lady coming into the ward to teach us basketwork. She had a lady helper who was in her thirties who had just been discharged from a TB hospital after 15 years. She was finding life in the outside world a problem. There was an old man opposite me called Jock who was so bad-tempered it was funny. He always had to hide cigarette packets and little bottles of whisky from matron. Everyone was frightened of the matron. She did her rounds most days and asked if everything was all right. Everyone, of course, said it was even if they had a complaint. There was a Scottish male nurse called Mr McGovern who had had TB in the past and had part of a lung removed. He was very fond of sea fishing. There was a lovely auxiliary nurse called Nurse Peach who was very kind to me. My consultant doctor was called Dr Harper who seemed very old and used to drive to the hospital in a Morris 1000. A bit different to the consultants of today whose cars would be expensive ones. I spent my days listening to music, reading and joking with the nurses. All the women patients were upstairs and I never saw them except when they were allowed up for hours and walked past the window.

My six months in the sanatorium seemed like a lifetime. The X-rays I had shown the treatment was working and I was gaining weight. I used to get depressed when some patients who came in after me were discharged. I couldn’t understand why they were keeping me for so long. I could only assume I had it worse than the others, but I didn’t ask because patients didn’t ask questions, they were expected to trust the doctors. If you plucked up enough courage to question a doctor it was unlikely you would receive a straight answer and matron would give you a dirty look. Mum and George would come and see me on a regular basis and a few school friends came too, others wrote letters. My favourite day was Sunday when I listened to the top twenty in the hit parade. I was allowed home for Christmas 1963, Peter and Derek came to stay. We had a good time but I had put on a great deal of weight and had a huge bottom.

Christmas 1963

Left to right: Derek, George Mr Parslow, Mum, Miss Parslow
Peter and Sandy the dog

By January 1964 I was ready to go home. It felt wonderful but I had no confidence about my health, thinking it would only be a matter of time before the TB would break out again. I was now 17 years and ready to apply for my driving licence. I no longer wanted to ride a motorcycle and sold it for £8. I applied for my provisional driving license and soon started driving the Morris 1000. I would take mum and George out for a Sunday afternoon drive around Dorset. I loved being in charge of the car. I always remember a red signpost where I was told Lawrence of Arabia met his end when he crashed his motorbike in the nineteen-thirties. I know now this to be wrong. Before taking my test I had three driving lessons with a school. The instructor would collect me in a Mini and I would drive around the New Forest or go to Bournemouth for a traffic experience. The lessons cost me 19/-6 (£0.97) each. Soon I applied for my test and had to go to Bournemouth to take it. In the end, the examiner told me off severely for trying to hoot the horn at an elderly woman crossing a side road. I tried to argue with him but he said pedestrians were here before cars and should always be given priority. I passed the test and felt so happy. I now could expand my life if I could borrow the car. My mother decided she ought the buy another car. A white Vauxhall Viva was decided on. I thought it looked very smart. The faithful Morris 1000 was traded in and we had another car. I never really liked the Viva, its road holding was poor and it felt like driving a flashy American car, but it was really quite small. Peter came to stay for a week and my mother allowed Peter and me to go on holiday in the Viva. We drove all the way to Cornwall and visited much of the coastline and stayed in B&B accommodation. The year was 1964 and there had been trouble in the area involving young people so some of the landladies refused to have us staying in their house. A very small car called a mini was becoming very fashionable with royalty driving them. It had a front-wheel drive and excellent road holding on corners, but a real death trap. Motor manufacturers` ideas on safety were that if you drove carefully accidents didn’t happen so no safety features were incorporated into cars. I had my sights set on a mini.

My mother bought an Austin Mini super deluxe in 1964. The new price being £510.. It was my favourite car

At 17years I was growing in confidence. At times I was in conflict with George. I would often get cheeky and say something that upset him. One day we were all having a cup of tea when I made some remark to George which I shouldn’t have. Suddenly he hit me round the head quite hard. I immediately felt strange and had a ringing sound in my head and my balance was affected. I was sent by the doctor to the ear nose and throat hospital where they diagnosed a broken eardrum. I was given medicine to rectify it. My mum was quite disgusted with George and decided that she wouldn’t change her will to leave him half the house if he and I couldn’t get on.

Mum George and Sheila in Shalfsbury

Me, Mum and George at Mudeford about 1964

It was about this time that I met my second girlfriend. I used to see her get off the bus outside Petherton Cottage. She was very blond and one day we just got talking. Her name was Sheila Barron and she attended Brockenhurst College. I don't know how I managed to ask her out but I did. She lived just down the road and her father was an engineer and she had lived all over the world. We used to drive to Bournemouth in the Viva and see a film or into Ringwood to have coffee with mutual friends. Sometimes she came out with me, Mum and George. I drove her up to London met Peter and we went to Battersea Funfair. She was a nice amiable girl but had hair above her top lip which I didn’t like much. I tried to ignore it and hoped no one else would notice. I was devastated one day when my mother laughingly made a comment about it. Unfortunately because of her father's job she had to move away to St Alban's in Hertfordshire and so that was the end of that relationship. I never saw her again and later wished I had kept in touch.

After leaving school I had applied to attend Bournemouth College of Art. My mum had taken me for my interview with the Head of the Photography department, Mr Turland. I had decided I wanted to become a professional photographer. I must admit I enjoyed taking photographs but only had a very simple camera. For the interview,, I had taken some snaps of my dog Ruffee and remember Mr Turland asking if I could see anything wrong with the composition in one of the photographs. I couldn’t fault it and eventually, he pointed out there was a tree growing out of the dogs head. Ever since then I have chosen backgrounds carefully. I passed my interview and was due to start in September 1963. Because I was diagnosed with TB in July 1963 I had to cancel my enrolment, but they kept a place for me the following year.

After coming out of hospital I had several months to kill. I needed some employment. Just down the road passed Ashley Heath Railway Station, there was a garage run by a lady. I think it just sold BP petrol. She gave me a job cutting the grass. The cost of petrol at that time was 4/-11(25p) a gallon or approximately 5p a litre. Later other people employed me to cut their grass. I also did some gardening for a family in West Moors. My rate was 4/-00 (20p) per hour. I also nearly took a job as a trainee television engineer for a firm in Ringwood but decided against it. I remember George who worked in Verwood got me a job in a paint factory. The foreman spent all day showing me around and explaining things and then the next day I decided I didn’t want to go anymore. George had to tell the foreman who wasn’t very happy. I then got a job on a farm near Verwood. It was called Sleepbrook Farm and was run by a retired army officer, who didn’t seem that old. I was given a variety of jobs. I would pull a harrow across fields behind a Landrover in a very low gear, to break the ploughed soil up, muck out the cows, mend fences and feed the chickens. When I mucked out I remember thinking how degrading it was and told the cow lady that I didn’t have to do this work. It was the wrong thing to say to a person whose full time was dealing with cows. I had no respect for the army officer, the cow lady and farm labourer used to talk badly of him and say he was an amateur farmer. He would often shout at me and call me an idiot when I did something wrong which was quite often. One day when we were walking behind the cows he told me to drop the stick I was carrying as he, the owner, was the only person allowed to hold a stick. He would often hit cows with the front of the Land Rover if they wouldn’t move quickly enough and there were dead chicken carcasses just left to rot outside the battery hen house. One day I was cutting some grass with a sickle and I managed to slice through a hose pipe in a dozen places and I remember seeing the biggest rat I had ever seen, it was the size of a small cat. On Friday I collected my wages and just never went back.

At times I was having second thoughts about going to college because waiting a year seemed like a lifetime. I applied for a vacancy at an estate agent in Winton in Bournemouth. At the interview, the boss asked how much I expected to earn. I said about £800 per annum. About £14 per week. He said he would pay me £4 a week. I would have to work 6 days from 9am until 6pm but he would teach me everything about the business. I decided the job wasn’t for me.

Soon it was September and time to start my college course. It was a three-year photography course with externally set exams. The first two years were black & white and the third year either colour or movie. I had to travel to Bournemouth every day it was about 12 miles. George would drive me to Three Legged Cross where the bus stopped, then continue to drive to work in Verwood. The bus was a green double-decker with long seats upstairs. It was difficult for the conductor to lean across to collect the fares. It stopped at the Landsdown in Bournemouth next to the college.

The first year our lecturer was Mr Watford who I liked very much. He used to explain things well. During the war, he had been a rear gunner in a Lancaster bomber. I found the practical work very enjoyable and would use a big plate camera on a tripod for studio work. I also bought a twin-lens reflex for use outside. Think it was called a Walzflex. Some of the richer students bought Rollieflexes which all good professionals used. One or two owned Mamiyas which took interchangeable lenses. Much of the time we were taught to use our eyes to observe things and give particular attention to the way light interacted with an object. I had been nervous, to begin with, but liked some of the other students. Made friends with a student called Gerry who lived in New Milton. All the talk was of negative quality, definition, contrast and different developers. Our bible was called the `Ilford Manual of Photography` which seemed to contain everything we needed to know. We spent the practical lessons taking photographs but seemed to please ourselves what we took. Often we used big technical cameras to produce a big negative 5x4 inches to get optimum quality. We were very concerned about converging verticals and something called reticulation as we had nothing better to worry about. Every Friday afternoon we had Photographic theory across the road in the Royal London House with Mr Hypher. He seemed to know so much about the subject and told us many funny stories about things that had happened while taking photos. At the time found the theory difficult to understand so didn’t like Friday afternoons much.

Aged 17 years. 1966

My mother decided she didn’t want to live in a big house any longer. She wanted to be near the shops and have somewhere to walk to. She decided to move to Bournemouth. We soon had a house in Moordown on the outskirts of town. It was a small bungalow in Cox Avenue. We moved in about November 1964. It meant my bus journey to college would be much shorter. I didn’t mind the move but remember my mother couldn’t sell the big house at Ashley Heath called Petherton Cottage.

It wasn't long before I was introduced to my third girlfriend by my friend Gerry Beauchamps who was on the photography course. Her name was Jan Warren and she lived at Hinton Admiral not far from Christchurch. She was only Fifteen and very small. She liked having her photograph taken, so we used to drive in the green mini into the New Forest and take lots of pictures. I became very fond of Jan and used to go out with her family to places. I suppose I went out with her for about six months before we split-up. I remember seeing her later with someone else whom I thought rather a weedy looking boy.

Jan Warren taken in 1964 in the New Forest

I briefly met another lovely girl called Rosamund Clark who lived in Ringwood. We went walking in the New Forest and I took photographs of her. Later I stayed at her house a couple of times. She had a twin sister called Lesley and we would go out for drives with another friend called Peter Farrington. She was my dream but Rosamund later went to Rome to live and I lost touch. Forty years later we found each other on Friends Reunited and write to each other on a regular basis.

Rosamund Clarke in 1965

                                                                             



Me aged 19 years

The first Christmas in Bournemouth (1964) Georges` friend Derek came down. It was my Mum's last Christmas. I spent most of my time with my girlfriend's family and had use of the car. Derek had a similar mini, but red. One evening I came back from the girlfriend's house drove onto the drive and hit the bumper of Derek's car that was parked there. George was a bit drunk and heard the bang. He shouted to my mum, `That bloody son of your yours has just hit Derek's car`.

I continued to catch the yellow bus to college, take the dogs for walks and enjoy life. Then one day my mother`s stomach swelled up. She went to the doctor and they were very concerned. She was admitted to the hospital almost at once. George and I would visit her and she seemed quite cheerful and thought she probably had an ulcer. Then one day we went to see her and she was asleep and appeared to be very ill. We were asked to wait outside the ward and a nurse noticed my distress and told me for the first time my mother was very ill. She told me the doctor would talk to me the next day. I knew then she was going to die and sat in the car crying my eyes out. The next day when I saw the consultant, Dr Craig, he sympathetically told me my mother had cancer of the womb and would not get better. That evening at the bungalow quite late there was a knock on the door and a policeman informed me that my mother had passed away. It was the 25^{th of} March 1965. I was eighteen years old.

Next day George and I arranged the funeral. We asked for her to be buried in the cemetery in Bournemouth. After all the arrangements had been made the solicitor who held her will informed us the will stated she was to be buried in London with my father. I overruled this request because all the arrangements were in place. By doing this I later realised I had upset my father’s relations ( now my guardians) in Kettering, none of who came to the funeral. The people who came to the funeral were Dennis (her brother) and Eileen, Derek, and Ethel. It always amazes me how happy people seem after a funeral. The will was read and George was shocked not to be left anything. My mother had left me the bulk of the estate. I couldn’t inherit until I was 21years so guardians and executors were appointed. My guardians were Mr and Mrs Sharp cousins of my father who lived in Kettering. Mr Sharp was also an executor together with Mr Pain, the solicitor. Dennis frantically searched the house for another will but none was found. Apparently, my mother had told him she was making another will. Dennis was very anti-George and would keep whispering detrimental remarks to me about him. George after living with me and mum for five years decided he could not possibly live in a house owned by an eighteen-year-old so would leave and go back to his native Scotland. Dennis told me there would always be a home for me at his house in Basingstoke and I could go there whenever I wanted to.

George and Dennis at my mother`s funeral

Ethel at Bournemouth cemetery

My mother had several properties. Some of them had mortgages. The solicitor in cahoots with my guardians would sell these properties including the one I lived in. I was told to move out and find lodgings. My guardians dislike of Uncle Dennis aggravated the situation.

I managed to find accommodation where another student on the same course, Howard Raymond was lodging. The landlady, Mrs Pritchard seemed a very kind lady and her charge for the full board; Monday to Friday was two pounds. She gave us plenty of food and I had my own room. We were allowed to sit with the family in the evening and watch TV. I also had use of the mini, not many students in those days had cars.

At times I felt sad and empty and couldn’t believe my life had changed from being part of a family to a nonentity. I felt like I had no status and I was special to nobody. At weekends I would stay at Dennis and Eileen’s council flat. I would drive to Basingstoke on a Friday after college and return on a Monday morning. They were very nice to me and I tried very hard to be grateful and help them if I could. They had no car and I did, so if I could run them around I would make myself available. They seemed pleased to have me around. Eileen was expecting a baby so they were given a new house to rent at Winklebury. From then on I had my own room. Samantha was born round about Christmas time in 1965 at Winchester.

Dennis, my mother’s brother was a man with very strong political opinions. He was a very left-wing socialist. In fact I would say he supported the communist party. I had come from a Conservative family so I had many political arguments with Dennis. They were always fun and I learned a great deal about how the capitalist system exploited the workers. I felt he was left behind in the 1930s with his philosophy and hadn’t moved with the times. He tried to be a true communist and didn’t believe in people owning their own houses or private enterprise of any sort. He had nearly always worked for state-owned organisations like the Army, the Post Office and GPO telephone and thought everyone should have equal wealth. Of course, he was on the wrong side of the line himself. I have never come across anyone with money who believed it should be redistributed.

Dennis and Eileen had good friends called Ken and Dorrie who lived on the other side of Basingstoke. Ken was a telephone engineer as well and used to be a postman in London with Dennis. Both families had moved to Basingstoke when it had become an overspill town and people in London had been encouraged to move to a developing town outside the capital. At that time I was very much part of the Gould family and would spend evenings at Ken and Dorrie`s. Some weekends us men went on fishing trips. Peter my friend sometimes came so would Gus another friend who came to Basingstoke from London. Often we fished all night. The favourite venue was the Hampshire Avon at Ringwood. It was a fast-flowing river famous for its course fish. It wasn’t easy to fish and Ken was the most successful. We had some great fun dodging the water bailiff, as night angling wasn’t allowed. Dennis enjoyed his tea and brewed up fresh tea on a stove that was always welcome in the middle of the night. Other places we fished were the Kennet &Avon canal, Rivers Thames and River Kennet. I remember I was happy during that period.

At the end of my first year at college, the class sat the first examination. It was the City & Guilds Preliminary in Photography. As I was sharing my digs with Howard Raymond a more mature student, we spent much time on study work and in a discussion on the subject. There was a practical and theory exam. I was quite relaxed about the exam and didn’t worry about results, but always tried to do my best. Later after the summer holidays Howard and I were the only students in the class who had passed the exam.

That summer Peter Riddle and I went for a holiday at Pontin's Holiday Camp near Selsey Bill in Sussex. Dennis decided after all I had been through I ought to have a holiday. I remember we had a great time centred on drinking, watching entertainment by the Bluecoats and chatting up girls. I remember entering a tennis tournament, that I expected to win, but was knocked out.

For the rest of the summer holidays I got a job at the big Sainsbury`s Warehouse in Basingstoke as a cleaner, just sweeping up all day and skivvying whenever possible. I found the job boring but stuck it out. I had been given a grant for college, a sum of money for each term and all tuition fees were paid. This was supplemented by an allowance of two pounds a week from my mother’s estate. I still felt I should work. Later I was asked to do the cleaning in the three huge deep freezes. I had to dress in a special suit and looked like the Michelin man. My job was to stop the ice building up and I had a special tool to chip it away. I was allowed a ten-minute break every hour. I liked this because I could stretch the ten minutes to fifteen and sometimes twenty. I used to tell my Uncle Dennis that I was exploiting the wicked capitalists and not the other way round. I would also help myself to some frozen food and smuggle it out passed the security guard. My biggest perk was a frozen duck that we all had for Sunday dinner.

Suddenly out of the blue my guardians decided I should no longer be driving the Austin mini and was told to garage it at the house that was up for sale. When I refused to do it they cancelled my insurance. I garaged it for a while but then decided to use it anyway and be careful. By this time the tax had expired so I was using it without tax and insurance. I remember watching policemen and police cars very carefully. One day in Lyndhurst, stuck in a traffic jam I watched in horror as a policeman on foot walked towards me and crossed the road in front of the car. I thought my clean record was about to end. However, he didn’t look at the old tax disc. The executors somehow found out I was using the car so decided to reinstate the insurance rather than force me to break the law.

For my second year at college, our lecturer was Commander Cheatham. He was one of those people who were constantly talked about by students and staff. Nobody believed anything he said. Students even doubted whether he should be calling himself Commander. He often did holiday trips in the summer with his family and took students with him. There were always stories about his attitude and behaviour and those of his wife during these journeys. He wasn’t like our first-year lecturer, Mr Watford. I can’t remember Commander Cheatham ever teaching us anything. He did invite us, students, to a Guy Fawkes party at his big house in Dorset. During the summer term of that year, Howard Raymond and I decided we would go to Jersey for the summer holidays to work. We were about to book our tickets when news came that Howard had won a photography competition he had entered. The money prize had to be spent on travel within three months. When Commander Cheatham heard the news he immediately suggested we both travelled with him and his family to Turkey in his V.W Camper. He made the trip sound very attractive so we both agreed to go. Other students told us we were making a big mistake. It was only my second trip abroad and I was very excited. We left during England’s lead up to victory in the 1966 World Cup. What a long journey it was through Europe. France, Germany, Switzerland, Northern Italy. Then we entered Yugoslavia. I was suffering badly from a polio vaccination that I was advised to have before going abroad. The camper broke down and a row broke out. I got frustrated on the journey of being shut up in the camper with Cheatham`s three young children. He then decided he wasn’t going to Turkey. I felt cheated and told him so. I also had political discussions with him. He was politically Conservative and blamed all the problems Britain was having on Harald Wilson and the labour party. Britain at the time was having big problems with the unions and was strike ridden. He said the Europeans had no respect for us anymore. Later one after another row he told us that as far as he was concerned we were only hitchhikers. He had lent us a tent to sleep in and his son had come in and caused us to spill some wine on the groundsheet. So he accused us of ruining his tent. From then on Howard and I felt isolated from the family. We drove all the way south along the Adriatic coastline until we arrived in Dubrovnik. The sea looked so blue and inviting I had never seen anything like it before. Yugoslavia was a communist country we were behind the Iron Curtain it was exciting. The country had only been open to tourists for a few years. I had heard so much about communism and what a wonderfully fair system it was from Uncle Dennis, so was eager to compare. No one could speak English but we managed to make ourselves understood. One day when we couldn`t get the waiter to understand a glass of water we wrote H20 on the table and he understood. The first thing we noticed was how long we would have to wait for service in a cafe. The waiters were apathetic and had no incentive to speed themselves up. This was because they worked for the state rather than a boss who wanted to make money. Every shop we entered there was a big photograph of President Tito and the cost of public transport was very cheap. The beaches and seawater were beautiful and indigenous people we saw often had lovely slim bodies and bronze coloured skin. Whilst swimming I could see clearly right down to the seabed and there were starfish on the bottom. Many times I tried to swim to the bottom to obtain one, but refraction made the bottom look much closer than it was. Each time I attempted the dive my ears hurt so much I abandoned my attempt. Dubrovnik was a historic walled town. You could almost walk around the town on the high walls viewing the red-roofed houses in the heat and bright sunlight. It was a paradise for me.

Mrs Pritchard the landlady decided to have another student. His name was Barry Mead from Weymouth. He was on an art course at the college. He was also a pipe smoker. I had always disapproved of smoking, I hated it and spent years trying to get my mother to give up. Not for health reasons, because I did not realise it was unhealthy at that time, but because I thought it was a silly thing to do and was a waste of money. Suddenly smoking started to look cool and attractive to me and I asked Barry if I could try his pipe. I hated it the first time but made the mistake of a second attempt. I began to enjoy tobacco and also tried cigarettes obtained from Uncle Dennis. I was twenty-one years at the time and struggled for the next thirty years trying to give up the habit. I was never a heavy smoker but became well and truly addicted to nicotine and it didn`t do my chest any good.

For my third year at college,, I had to choose between colour photography or cine. I chose to do the colour. My lecturer was Mr Powell. There was very little structure to the photography course and we seemed to do what we wanted most of the time. Some of the students became disillusioned and rented a flat in Holdenhurst Road near the college and did their work independently. Unfortunately, they took some of the college apparatus with them. The college informed the police who recovered the equipment. I didn’t have much respect for Powell and one day with an aerosol wrote all over the darkroom what I thought of him. There was an enquiry but I survived because no one told on me. They probably felt the same way, but it was a stupid thing to do.

Several parties were held at the flat in Holdenhurst Road and students from different departments were invited. One party stands out in my mind. It was on a Saturday night and Peter Riddell, Bates and myself drove from Basingstoke to Bournemouth in Peter’s car. Everyone took a bottle and we emptied our bottles in a huge punch bowl. During the evening I had more than my fair share and my two friends had to frog-march me to the car because I was so drunk. I was put in the back and the whole car seemed to be spiralling through the New Forest. At one point I had to get out of the car and was violently sick in a ditch. I slept at Peter’s house that night and was so sick I was vomiting blood. The next day I had a terrible hangover. I learned my lesson and have never been intoxicated to any degree since.

One day at my digs I left my bag at the bottom of the stairs. Mrs Pritchard, the landlady was upstairs when the phone rang. She dashed down the stairs to answer it, tripped over my bag, fell over and broke her arm. Soon after that incident, Howard processed a film in a developing tank in the house. Then left the film to wash in the bedroom sink under running water. Whilst we were out my flannel fell into the sink and blocked the plughole. The water overflowed and came through the lounge ceiling downstairs. We expected to be thrown out but Mrs Pritchard was very pleasant about the whole business.

In July 1967 we took our final exams. I was fortunate enough to pass them all. All I had to do now was get a job, not an easy thing to do I soon discovered. During the school holidays, I got a job working for a firm called Walcons. They were building subways in Basingstoke. Most of the other workers were Irish. After digging many holes and grinding down concrete I used to get various driving jobs because the Irishmen didn’t have licences. One day I drove to Chandlers Ford to get some parts. I didn’t realise I had the key to the caravan in my pocket. So the Irishmen couldn’t get in to have their tea break. On returning one of the most pig-ignorant of them threatened to punch me on the nose. He backed away when I clenched my fists, walked towards him in a threatening way. I made a nice friend, a young civil engineer called Dave Shave. We used to meet for a drink and play tennis in Memorial Park in Basingstoke.

I applied for a job unsuccessfully with small commercial photographers. I remember being very disappointed after a good interview and the day spent there. After leaving college full of confidence there is nothing more depressing than being turned down and not knowing for what reason. Later I tried for a job at the Imperial College of Science and Technology in Exhibition Road, S.Kensington. I failed to get that job, but a different department offered me a position as a Laboratory Photographer. It was the Mechanical Engineering section and the Lab was called Photo-elasticity. The students were postgraduates and were working towards their PhD.

I had to find accommodation in London not too far from my place of work. My Aunty Joyce was the most obvious choice. She still lived in the big house in Fulham where I had lived with my family until 1959 when my mother and I moved out. Ten years later I was moving back. I rented the middle room in the house for two pounds a week. I had the Austin mini parked outside but usually walked to South Kensington to work. Every weekend I still drove back to Dennis and Eileen`s house in Basingstoke. Think by this time they were getting a bit fed up and wanted me to stay in London. I never realised how they felt because they didn`t tell me so I continued to use their house as my home.

In November 1967 I celebrated my 21st birthday at Dennis and Eileen`s house. I invited a few ex-college friends and a good evening was enjoyed by everyone who came. 

I quite liked the work but there was some confusion as to my duties. I considered I was employed as a photographer, but much of the work was that of a lab technician. I was sent on a course with Kodak based in Hendon to learn a technique of putting images onto a copper plate, such as printed circuits using ultraviolet light and a coating called photoresist.

I felt quite lonely living in London, didn't know anybody and had no friends. Kept thinking what a miserable existence, one works hard to gain qualifications then has to live in a bedsit in Fulham to do the job you trained for. Think I spent every evening in my room reading books and feeling unhappy. I went downstairs a few times to see Joyce for company, but she had a friend called George who objected to me coming down so had to stay put in my room. It`s not always easy for a young person to find friends and interests away from home.

One of my jobs at the lab was to clean metals with various chemicals. Remember knocking myself out one day when I used Chloroform in a confined space to degrease a steel sheet. I came to lying on the floor and wondered where I was.

In late January of 1968, I developed a severe cold which turned into a chest infection like I had never had before. I'm sure I must have taken antibiotics but couldn't shake it off. The infection seemed to have made my lung passages contract and somehow it turned into a form of chronic asthma which wouldn`t get better. I didn't have enough breath to get out of bed. Somehow I managed to get back to Basingstoke in the car, but had to go to bed and didn't seem to get any better. Even became delirious at times and behaved in a strange way. Eventually,, the doctor was called and after another few days, he sent me to the hospital. Think it was called King George V near Godalming. After arriving at the hospital I soon felt better but they kept me in for a couple of weeks. The consultant was a bit cross with me and thought I was faking. Asthma was treated as a problem in the mind in those days and asthmatics received little sympathy. Remember feeling quite happy to be in hospital as I had plenty of people to talk to and no loneliness. There was also a little student nurse called Aloma Dove from Trinidad who took a special interest in me.

After coming out I had to return to London and back to work. At first, I felt fine, but soon my wheezing started again. Although I had a puffer to relieve the breathlessness soon it had no effect. I tried to keep going to work, but felt like an old man gasping for breath. It wasn't long before I couldn't go to work again and I made my way to Basingstoke somehow in the car. I stayed in bed gasping for air with no relief. There was nothing I could do to make myself better. My uncle Dennis became quite hostile towards me and told me I couldn't expect his wife Eileen to look after me and I should get myself admitted to the hospital. I couldn't believe anyone could speak like that to me when I felt so ill. I seemed to be in bed for days. One night my chest was so tight I had to sit on a stool and lean forward and was slowly suffocating. I started seeing images of my mother and father. Soon an ambulance arrived and I was taken away to the hospital again with an oxygen mask on my face. After an injection of adrenalin in my vein, the tightness was suddenly relieved. I was put on steroids and more antibiotics and was soon better again. Think I was kept in for a couple of weeks but asthma didn't return. I left the hospital returned to Basingstoke, where Dennis told me that when I had left in the Ambulance he hadn't expected me to survive. Soon I returned to London to resume work. It was only a few days later that my chest started to get tight. I tried to keep going but soon was feeling very ill again. I made up my mind to leave my job and get out of London. I couldn't face going back to my uncle's and feel so unwelcome and it had been suggested I was making myself ill on purpose. I gave my notice in, got in the car and drove to Bournemouth vomiting several times on the way and asked Mrs Prichard, my landlady, if I could stay with her. She gave me a room but wasn't very nice to me and seemed put out, especially when I stayed in bed gasping for breath. She came into my room and started nagging me about the fact that her son had asthma but always went to work. I was so miserable everywhere I went, people were blaming me for my condition, telling me it was brought on in my head, but I just didn't have enough breath to walk across the room. People were nasty and didn't want a sick person around. After several days I managed to dress and take myself to the doctor. I sat in the waiting room gasping for breath with the sweat pouring off my forehead. When I was called in to see the doctor I immediately vomited, luckily into a tray. The doctor was cross and said I should have called him out to the house. I explained how my landlady was behaving and he agreed to speak to her. I was sent to the hospital straight away, my car was parked outside the surgery and was driven by someone and parked in the doctor's driveway for the duration of my stay in the hospital. The hospital was the same one where my mother had died three years before. They treated me by relieving the tightness with adrenalin and then doses of steroids and more antibiotics. I was kept in for some time. The consultant Dr Craig had treated my mother and asked me if I minded him treating me. He was one of the few doctors who gave me a bit of time and talked to me. There was still the belief that the complaint was psychosomatic but I was stressed out because I couldn't make myself better and everyone thought I was making myself ill on purpose. Why were there so many ignorant people around me in those days?

When I came out my friend Gerald Beachamp managed to get me a job at a camera shop in Highcliffe. Also, I enrolled on a sailing course. Must have thought the sea air would clean my lungs and make asthma better. During the course my chest was clear. The course was at the Poole School of Sailing and took place in Poole Harbour and this course started a life long interest in sailing and boats.

Managed to hold down the job at the camera shop and quite enjoyed working again. However my asthma attacks continued, but I started to be able to shake them off after a day, although they were quite severe. I quite enjoyed selling items to people and the shop also took in films for processing and I used to hire out equipment also take passport photos. There was a projector room and I had regulars who would ask me if I would show them the Harrison Marks 8mm films. Harrison Marks was a nude photographer of the sixties. I would make a small charge for screening the films. They were so harmless by today`s standards. I remember getting conned by two men. One called himself Mr Bull and the other Mr Bullock and between them gave me a dud cheque and got me to part with some money. So many people called into the shop for a chat. A salesman tried to sell me an investment policy and seemed so friendly at first and kept calling into the shop. Suddenly he became aggressive and accused me of wasting his time. One day I had to call the police because the assistant had left with the keys and I didn`t have his address and couldn`t lock the shop up at the closing time.

Later I put an advert in the BJP (British Journal of Photography) for a job. I was surprised to get a letter from the curator of Beaulieu Motor Museum, David Ware. He was a qualified photographer himself and needed an assistant. I accepted the job at 13 pounds a week. The museum had a photo library of vintage and veteran vehicles from all over the world. Magazine editors would request photos and it was my job to copy the master photograph so customers could be supplied. If a negative existed I would print directly from the negative. The darkroom was in Palace House the home of Lord Montague. Sometimes I was able to take photographs for the museum. I often used a plate camera for quality. I remember having to go to Bucklers Hard with Lord Montague and photograph people in an old vehicle called a Maxwell bus. One day Derek and I went to the Winter Gardens in Bournemouth and took shots of Harry H Corbett (of Steptoe & Son fame) sitting in a car called a Brushmobil, which had been used in a pantomime in which he had been appearing. He invited Derek and me to his dressing room for a drink afterwards. He was a pleasant man but chain-smoked and drank heavily. A few years later he died of a heart attack at a relatively young age. Quite a few well-known people would visit the palace, I remember Eamon Andrews, King of Sweden and several pop groups. One day I had to photograph a group called Scaffold. One of the group was the brother of Paul McCarthy from the Beatles. I took shots of them on the staircase in Palace House. The manager a little cockney man kept asking me whom I was taking the shots for. I told him the photos were for Lord Montague and he seemed happy with this.

I was still living in Bournemouth with Mrs Prichard and working at Beaulieu. I decided I didn`t want to stay in Bournemouth and asked my Auntie Eileen and Dennis if I could come and live in their house in Basingstoke and travel to my job every day. I offered to pay £4 a week which I thought was a fair amount. I realise now they didn't want me there, but they reluctantly agreed. I told Mrs Pritchard I was leaving and she was cross and I had to put up with an hour`s nagging about the money she had lost having me there. (December 1969). Amazing how guilty she made me feel, So I left with bad feelings and went to Basingstoke and stayed in my room at Dennis` house. I started travelling in my mini to Beaulieu every day. Lord Montague had many properties on the estate and it was suggested to me he might let me stay in one. Many of his staff had accommodation on the estate. This never materialised and my wage was only

Photograph of me while working for Lord Montague 1969

The group called Scaffold I photographed `Lilly the Pink` at Palace House. The chap at the front is Paul McCarthy`s (Beatles)  brother.

Harry H Corbett of Steptoe frame at the Winter Gardens in Bournemouth
The car was a Brushmobil. I had to clear all the visitors to take the photographs.

£13 per week so I started thinking about leaving and doing something else for a job. I was still being ill enough with asthma to have to take nearly a day off every week and this caused me a great deal of stress and guilt.

Lord Montague and the Maxwell Bus at Bucklers Hard

Then Dennis and Eileen were going to London for a week and Dennis started making a fuss about me staying in the house whilst they were away. I was 23years old. Dennis was a very tight man and I realised later he was worried I would use too much electricity. I offered to try and find somewhere else to stay and asked Ken and Dorrie who were friends. Ken told me that Dorrie didn't want another person staying in her house. So I couldn't get another place to stay and Dennis was very cool towards me in the days leading up to their trip. He did this by hardly speaking and it made me feel very uncomfortable. After they had left I discovered Dennis had tried to stop me using the TV by disconnecting a wire. Think this was to stop me from staying indoors and using electricity. I soon repaired the TV but never put the heating on during that week although it was very cold. Whilst I was on my own I started thinking about buying my own house. I felt very unwelcome at Dennis and Eileen`s house and suddenly realised I had money available to buy a property. The thought which I had never had before grew and I started looking around. I enquired about a council house at first but was told there was an 18months waiting list. When my uncle and aunt returned, I told them what I intended to do. They seemed pleased and thought it was a good idea. So I was making changes in my life and becoming independent and saving my dwindling relationship with my uncle and aunt.

Dennis and Eileen at home in 1966

I visited the Labour exchange (jobcentre) in Basingstoke to find out if there were any jobs in the town available. I was informed that there was a job as an electronic wireman at the local telephone exchange. I went for an interview. The contractor was GEC and they were in the process of installing new equipment in the exchange. The job consisted of wrapping colour coded wires onto terminals with a wire gun. It was hourly paid and semi-skilled. I took the job, terminated my employment at Beaulieu and began my new job at the beginning of February 1969. I was a bit shocked at my workmates. Their language consisted of continuous swear words and the main topic of conversation was sex and women. They all seemed to come from Liverpool and I hated the repetitiveness of the work and felt I was capable of better things and did not fit into this environment because I had been to college and had qualifications. However, I got used to it and became friendly with some of my workmates.

I was still being ill with asthma and it would hit me and incapacitate me about once a week for a day. I was still on and off oral steroids, inhaled relievers and tablets. The only medicine that really worked were the steroids but the doctor did not like me to be on them for too long. I had put on weight, had a bit of a moon face and felt a mess.

I eventually found a bungalow that I liked. It was semi-detached and on a big estate called the Berge Estate. It was two bedrooms and had a conservatory, garage and a garden. The asking price was £4700. I decided to buy it and took out a mortgage for £1000. I moved in April 1969. I hired a van to move my processions. Dennis didn't want to give me some of my furniture back and it was awkward before I left his house and the day I moved out he wasn`t speaking to me.

I was quite happy living in my own house and working at the telephone exchange for GEC. It was such a boring job with no prospects and no hope of improvement. I got to know some of my workmates quite well and grew to like some of them. I organised a trip to the Norfolk Broads with two of them. Nigel and John, I talked them into us three hiring a sailing boat. It worked out about £13 each for the week. We drove up to Norfolk and took charge of the boat. The other two had no experience so I was the captain. I remember we motored to Hickling Broad. There was a strong wind blowing. I wanted to put the sails up so decided to anchor in the middle of the broad, hoist the sails and sail off. After we had hoisted the sails the anchor which was only a heavy metal weight started dragging and before I could restart the engine or get the sails down the boat was blown into the reeds. We couldn't get away because we were on a lee shore. We spent the whole day there. Eventually, the wind became gentle by evening and a kind boat owner pulled us out and we tied up for the night near the Pleasure Boat Inn. The rest of the week we had good sailing and all enjoyed the trip with evenings spent in the many pubs.

John and Nigel on the Norfolk Broads 1969

One day I had a letter from Georges` sister saying George had passed away suddenly from a heart attack. He was in a wheelchair by this time and had had both legs removed because of his failing heart and its effects on his circulation. It came as a complete surprise although it shouldn`t have done. I was very upset as he had lived with my mother and me for five years. I remember even after he had his legs amputated he never gave up smoking. The last time I saw him was June 1969 when I took the train to Glasgow and remember how optimistic about the future he was.

I had been thinking about buying a sailing dinghy for some time. On the sailing course, I had attended I had at the end asked what sort of dinghy I should buy. I was recommended an Enterprise. I put an advert into a sailing magazine for an Enterprise and I was surprised how many replies I received. Then a chap rang me up and said he had one for sale at the Netley sailing club near Southampton. I went down to see the boat and he took me for a sail in it across Southampton Water. It performed well and I bought it for £150. I had to join the sailing club as I needed a place to keep it.

Our Russian airliner at Gatwick

Mamaia in Romania in 1969

In Romania in 1969

It was about this time that I was invited to go on a package holiday to Romania with my friend Peter Riddell, Allan Bates and three other boys. We were all about the same age. We flew from Gatwick in a propeller-driven Russian airliner to Bulgaria where we were transported by coach to Mamaia in Romania on the Black Sea coast. Romania was a Communist country at that time and ruled by a dictator called Ceausescu. We stayed in one of the many hotels and spent our days on the beach with one eye on the girls. It wasn`t long before we were befriended by a group of Romanians who wanted to spend time with us. They also wanted to buy practically everything we had. We made friends with a couple of Romanian girls and travelled to Bucharest by train. On the way, there was standing room only and somehow I managed to have the train window accidentally slammed onto my nose which bled profusely. While we were in the capital President Nixon was making a visit. (1969) We saw him and Ceausescu drive past in a Limo on their way to the palace. We were also invited to one of the girl`s parents flat for a meal. Her parents seemed poor but there was no shortage of food. It was a good holiday and we left with good intentions of keeping in touch with our friends. This lasted for a while but eventually petered out like most holiday friendships.

Because the job at the telephone exchange was so boring we often played games whilst working or just had a bit of fun if the boss was not around. One day some of my workmates took my shoe off my foot while I was working up high with my feet dangling down. They wrapped it up and one of them ran to the post office and mailed it to my home. I had to go home that night wearing just one shoe. On another occasion, I made a remark that upset one of the more volatile boys who behaved as though he was on drugs. He hated his father who was a squadron leader in the RAF (based in the stores) and my remark reminded him of his father. He decided he was going to beat me up. I spent an hour hiding from him in various places until he had calmed down.

Aloma Dove 1970

Aloma Dove the young girl from Trinidad who I had met whilst in the hospital came to see me a couple of times. Once by train and another time I drove to the hospital to pick her up. She was good company and really wanted me as her boyfriend. I liked her very much but could not cope with her not being British and white, I`m ashamed to say. Every time I took her to the shops in Basingstoke I felt people were looking and making remarks about us. It wasn't just my imagination either. In 1970 it was very unusual for white and black to mix and there was a bit of a stigma in going out with a black girl.

I also got friendly with a man called Jim who worked at the exchange. I remembered him working as a cleaner at Sainsbury's warehouse when I worked there during my time at college. He was a big chap who had just got married for the second time to a nurse called Pauline. He and I used to meet for drinks in the pub called the Beacon close to his house.

One of my workmates became my lodger for a few weeks and I lent another £40 to buy some drums because he wanted to start a group. I then met a boy called Don Barnard who I liked. He wanted a place to stay whilst working for GEC at Basingstoke. I offered him a room and he paid me a little rent. He went home most weekends so it worked very well. Another chap wanted a room so I put him up too, but he had the smelliest feet ever and the house stunk from floor to ceiling. Don and I called him `The Feet` so eventually I had to ask him to go as we couldn't put up with the smell any longer.

Eventually, I was transferred to a different Telephone Exchange outside Basingstoke. It was a modern electronic exchange and I quite enjoyed working there. Before we started work every day we were allowed to make tea and have breakfast. Later I went to another exchange at Spencer Wood near Reading. I worked with Jim and we used to take it in turns to use our cars. I had my Austin Mini and Jim had a big Vauxhall Wyvern that was not very roadworthy. One day coming back in his car he lost control and the car skidded across the road just missing a lorry coming the other way.

Jim taken by me in 1971

I started looking for another job. I thought a television engineer would be an ideal opportunity. A firm called Radio Rentals wanted a trainee TV engineer. I applied and got the job and was shown the workshop I would be working in. I gave in my notice with GEC and turned up the following Monday morning to start work. The boss said I must go out and learn to erect aerials before training in the workshop. Nothing was mentioned about this at the interview. I was sent out with a rather aggressive young man who wanted to do a days work in the morning so he could have the afternoon off. He wanted me to break all sort of health and safety rules asking me to climb drainpipes and run across pitched roofs. It was the beginning of the installation of colour TVs and at the time the Apollo 13 moon mission was in trouble and attempting to return to earth. The first people were having colour installed and the aerial had to be pointing directly at the transmitter. I would sometimes refuse to do what he asked me to do so I was holding him up. In addition,, my chest was often bad and I was short of breath. One day I had a big row with him and just walked out and never went back to Radio Rentals.

So I was out of work and had to go on the dole (job seekers allowance) I had to sign on once a week at the Labour Exchange ( jobcentre) I also collected my dole money in cash every week. I remember a feeling my life was going nowhere and often felt quite depressed. I could not see there was any way out of my predicament. I felt I had no friends and my uncle and aunt never contacted me to see if I was alright. I felt extremely lonely and really on my own.

One day I had a really bad Asthma attack. I was on my own and found it difficult to get out of bed. I kept using my puffer until it ran out. I had no phone and needed help. I remembered what time my next-door neighbour Dorothy came back from work and I got to the bathroom window as her car came into the drive. I managed to open the window and get the word `Help` out. She heard and came to help me. I felt so guilty and kept saying sorry because of how everyone had treated me with asthma. I was convinced I was responsible and didn`t deserve any help. Dorothy lived with a WPC called Judy. They were both so kind to me and took me into their house and looked after me. I was comfortable in a warm house and they got me some replacement medicine and I got better. We became friends and I often used to go and have coffee with them. Dorothy was a school teacher and very talkative and animated. She mentioned the words `Have you ever thought of becoming a teacher` to me. At the time the idea frightened me and I replied I could never do that job. Her friend Judy was from Canada and had joined the Hampshire Police Force. She was lovely to talk to and interesting. I remember her always ironing her uniform for work.

I spent a few months out of work but was always so concerned about finding a job that I couldn't enjoy the time off. I wasn't worried about money as I was able to survive, but I was so conditioned into thinking it was my duty to have a job that without employment I wasn't a complete person. I felt I should be doing something and felt restless and frustrated. Travelling abroad kept entering my head. I did not have the courage or health to go alone and I couldn't find anyone to go with me. The idea of seeing the world had been in my brain for a couple of years.

One day I decided to contact my uncle and aunt and Ken and Dorrie and invite them for tea at my new house. I prepared a spread and they came over. It was good to see them again and our friendship was renewed although I think I nearly put Dorrie off the food when I joked I had bought reprocessed corn beef for the sandwiches. ( at the time the news was full of stories about reprocessed corn beef from Argentina).

Jim and his wife Pauline invited me to meet two of her nursing friends who were coming to stay at her house. Pauline thought I was a lonely man living on my own and would be keen to have a girlfriend. The idea was to spend the day with Jim and Pauline and the friend and see how I would get on. The first time this happened the girl was alright but she was only interested in talking to Pauline and Jim and hardly noticed me, so it wasn't very successful. The second week a girl called Jean Stacey who had worked with Pauline as a nurse came to stay. I was invited to join them all for a drink at the New Inn in Basingstoke on Friday night. The evening was very pleasant and I felt that at least Jean had noticed me. I did not, however, realise how much. At the weekend we all went for a day trip to Hamble and wandered around the river looking at the boats. Later they all came to my house for a meal that I had prepared. It was a stew that they all seemed to enjoy. At that time I had deck chairs in the lounge as chairs, Jean seemed pleasant and asked me questions so I felt I could talk to her but could not imagine her as a girlfriend. Jean was an army nurse called a QA and was a qualified Midwife. She was an officer stationed at Catterick Army Camp in Yorkshire. She was in the process of getting a transfer to Tidworth Army Camp on Salisbury Plain which wasn`t very far away from Basingstoke. I did not give much more thought to the weekend, but suddenly a couple of weeks later got a telegram to say she was coming to Basingstoke and would call to see me. This was the beginning of a series of visits to see me at my house.



Jean and I on the Norfolk Broads on a sailing boat that we hired for a long weekend

I still had no job and one day my Uncle Dennis who worked for GPO Telephones contacted me and told me there were some telephone engineer jobs on offer.  He told me how I could apply. I was eager to have a go as it was a job as a civil servant with a proper contract, sick leave and holiday pay and it sounded important because I would have to sign the official secrets act. I duly put in my application and was offered an interview. I knew a little about the work of a telephone engineer and had worked as in the local telephone exchange for GEC so had some background knowledge. At the interview, I did quite well and was offered a job. I was delighted and started feeling more upbeat about everything.

Jean continued to visit me at my property in Basingstoke and often stayed for two or three days. She became my girlfriend and suggested I visit the Isle of Wight to meet her family. The family had gone to the Isle of Wight in about 1955 from the East End of London. The reason they decided to live there was that Jean`s brother had been a bad asthmatic and was advised to move out of London to a place where the air was less polluted. In the fifties the air in London was dirty. Sometimes a mixture of fog and smoke called Smog. In the fifties, it killed many old people who died of respiratory problems. Eventually, the government made London a smokeless zone and in years to come the air quality improved.

 I thought it would be a good idea to sail over in my Enterprise dinghy. Jean and I left Netley Sailing Club on Southampton Water and navigated our way across. It was a really calm day and there was just enough breeze to allow us to make the passage. For Jean who had never sailed before it was a false impression of sailing never to be repeated. When we arrived in Cowes we tied up at Town Quay and walked up to Jean`s house in Mill Hill Road to meet her parents. It wasn`t long before a Flying Fifteen sailor who lived across the road and had heard where we had left the boat, came over and suggested we move the boat to the Cowes Corinthian Yacht Club where it could be taken ashore. We moved the boat to the Yacht Club`s slipway and about six helpers lifted the boat and placed it in a vacant space. We spent the weekend looking around the Isle of Wight. I thought it was a lovely place and seemed so calm after the mainland. It was the weekend of the first Isle of Wight Pop Festival and I remember all the excitement and activity. When it was time to sail back across the Solent the weather had changed and it was too windy. So we left the boat at the club and took the car ferry to Southampton and collected the car from the Netley Sailing Club and returned to Basingstoke.

Dennis at work with the GPO telephone company



My Enterprise sailing dinghy at Newton Creek
on the Isle of Wight

It was now my turn to begin my new job as a GPO telephone engineer. Most of the people I met on the first day I had heard their names from Dennis and Ken who incessantly talked about their jobs, especially Ken Jones who we used to call Jones the Phones. I began working with a gang of men one of whom was my uncle Dennis. Our job was run cables in new industrial commercial buildings getting them fitted before the building was finished. Each morning after leaving the centre we would take the van into Basingstoke and find a place for a cup of tea where we wouldn't be seen. Sometimes we sat and talked for an hour before starting work. The whole job was very laid back without any pressure and could be boring. It was made pleasant by having a sense of humour and just general chit chat. It suited me and I found it therapeutic and it took my mind off my asthma attacks and the loneliness I felt. Jean kept up her regular visits.  Her parents came to stay at my house. I introduced her to Dennis and Eileen. I was never really completely happy because I felt my life was being taken over and I really had no alternative. So I just let it happen. We went on holiday with Dennis and Eileen to Devon and took the Enterprise on a trailer behind the car and sailed in the waters around Seaton. After we got back Jean went on a week`s sailing course on the River Hamble which she seemed to enjoy. For the first time in years, I was having better meals, my washing taken care of and the house was being cleaned properly.

After a few months with GPO telephones, there was a bit of reorganisation and I was told I would be training as a fitter. This meant I would be involved in installing telephone extensions and switchboards in homes and commercial and industrial premises. I started going out with a fitter called John Pearson for an introduction to the job. I was also sent on a course to a training centre in Bletchley. I found the course interesting and passed the exams. I started going out on jobs on my own and was given a dark green van where I could keep all my equipment and wiring diagrams. I found the job interesting and it gave me a certain amount of freedom. I met and talked to many people and got free samples and tips and information. Eventually, I was sent on another course, but on the first day woke up with an asthma attack and had to be taken to hospital. It was quickly dealt with and I returned to the course the next day and managed to pass the course exam again. Being a fitter I could store up time on various jobs and therefore was never under much pressure although if I did have problems, there was always someone with greater experience I could ring to get advice from. I often used to go home for lunch which I liked doing. I believe my wage was about £22 a week. I was paid weekly in cash and I`m sure I didn`t have a bank account. I used to put money in envelopes to pay household bills and my bank was the drawer of the welsh dresser.

Jean continued to spend some weekends at my house and we would sometimes travel to Cowes on a Friday night to spend the weekend with her mother and father. Jean`s mother always had jobs for me to do that I quite liked doing for her. Jean`s father was twenty years older than her mother and really couldn`t do much in the house so Florence (Jean`s mother) used to get quite frustrated with him. It was a large Victorian house and she used to do bed and breakfast for guests. She did particularly well Cowes Week when her guests returned annually to sail in the regatta. I did like the Isle of Wight mainly because of my interest in boats and the air felt fresh and clean and I thought it was doing my chest some good.

Jean and I were friendly with Don (my lodger) and Wendy his girlfriend. We spent one weekend at Don`s house in Wantage meeting his mum and dad. We discussed going on a continental holiday in my car. We talked about Spain. We thought about going for a month. Later I asked my employer for a month off, but they refused. I went to the union for help. (unions were strong in the seventies and feared by employers) Eventually, the GPO agreed I could have a month off if I did some extra hours on a few Saturdays.

Holiday in Spain and Portugal in July/August 1971

Spain in 1971 Wendy, Don and Jean

Spain 1971   Don, Wendy and Jean

Ceuta North Africa in 1971

We decided to catch the ferry from Southampton to Bilbao and drive along the northwest coast, of Spain then down the west coast through Portugal eventually reaching the south of Spain and to camp on the way. The idea was to visit Gibraltar or Morocco. When everything was sorted we left and everything went to plan. The little green mini went well and it was a good trip and we covered 2000miles.  However, the two girls didn`t get on. Jean felt she was doing all the work and Wendy just slept on in the mornings and it caused friction. Don supported Wendy and I supported Jean. I thought however there was no need for any conflict. I found the warm climate of Spain and Portugal did wonders for my asthma. We stayed in many lovely campsites and had lovely meals and occasionally in a Spanish hotel called a Parador. When we reached Algeciras we discovered the Spanish had closed the border with Gibraltar so the only way we could visit the colony was to take the ferry to Morocco and take another ferry to Gibraltar. It was just too expensive so Don and Wendy visited Morocco and Jean and I caught the ferry to Ceuta which is a Spanish colony in North Africa. It was a wonderful experience to set foot on the Continent of Africa. Everywhere looked so colourful and it was hot and relaxing. When we all came back to Spain we set off north toward Bilbao and drove through the capital city of Madrid. The situation deteriorated between the two girls with Jean complaining about Wendy in my ear all the time. This, in turn, caused an atmosphere between Don and myself with Don telling me to get Jean under control. It was all so unnecessary with the result that for the rest of the trip we were just being polite to each other. We eventually reached Bilbao and caught the ferry back to Southampton and drove back to Basingstoke. Don and Wendy were collected by Don`s father and taken back to Wantage. We never saw or heard from them again. The friendship was finished and it was all so unnecessary as a little give and take were all that was necessary to get along with each other on the trip.

I was madly interested in sailing and had set my sites on buying a larger boat with accommodation on board. A sailing cruiser. I didn`t know what to buy so approached a firm calling themselves Yachting Consultants based in Chichester to find me a boat. It was a bit of a silly move because they really didn`t help me much, in fact, they were more of a handicap. They recommended a class of boat which I had liked and said they would find me one. It was called a Trident and had four berths, two cabins, galley and toilet. Although there were some for sale in the yachting magazines they kept telling me there were none available and eventually suggested I buy something else. In the end, I approached an advertiser myself and went to view a Trident in Langstone Harbour. The asking price was £2200 and it was owned by the advertising manager of Practical Boating magazine and called Chamois of Wight. He told me Yachting Consultants had contacted him and offered to sell it for him on commission. He had declined so the firm had told me there were none on the market. I eventually bought the boat after getting a survey and rented the mooring in Langstone Harbour. It scared me having a twenty-four-foot boat and the engine worried me as it was a two-stroke Vire and would often suddenly stop working. The cause was often a whisker on the plug. It entailed the spark plug to be removed and cleaned and the engine restarted. The process was hazardous in restricted tidal waters. I would travel to Langstone from Basingstoke, row out to the boat in a small dinghy and spend the day doing small jobs on board.


Jean went to see her doctor because her period was late. She received a pregnancy test and was told it was positive. She rang and told me and I was shocked but quite pleased and couldn`t believe I was going to be a father and wasn`t sure what was going to happen. Jean wanted to tell her parents so I took some sick leave from work and we travelled to the Isle of Wight and I told her mother. He mother seemed a bit shocked but said she knew Jean wanted to have a baby. The next step that was expected from us was to get married so a licence was quickly arranged and we had a ceremony at County Hall in Newport. The only guests were Jean's mother and father. 

Jean`s mother and father was taken by me in 1971

After the marriage ceremony, we all went to a pub in Newport called The Wheatchief and had a meal. It was the 26^{th of} January 1972. That evening I returned to Basingstoke on my own and went back to work the next morning. I was a bit nervous to tell my Uncle Dennis that I had got married but knew I had to. So one morning at work I told him. He was so cold and just made some remark and never spoke to me again, nor did his wife Eileen. I never knew why they behaved in that manner but it may have been because Dennis thought I should have told him my plans or it could have been because he was no longer my next of kin and would not inherit my property if anything happened to me. I was incensed at this treatment towards myself and Jean from my mother's brother and never bothered with him again. Perhaps I should have approached them about their attitude and tried to get to the bottom of it, but I felt anger towards them because of the criticism and treatment I had received when I was sick and decided I had just had enough.

I had no one to sail with and didn't have the confidence to sail alone. I eventually advertised in a yachting magazine for the crew to sail some weekends. I had a couple of replies one from a Scotsman called Mr Richie who was in the aircraft industry and a man called Mike York who was in the RAF. They were both very keen to sail and some weekends we would meet at Langstone Harbour and go sailing for the weekend. The boat sailed well and we made a good team. Mr Richie was always worried and embarrassed if we did anything wrong like make a mess of the spinnaker or forgot to have the red ensign up whilst passing the Royal Yacht Squadron. He was also a bit panicky if any large ship appeared to be on the horizon and coming towards us. We sailed to Lymington, Yarmouth and the Folly Inn on the River Medina. Also across Bournemouth Bay to Poole a couple of times. Mike York who was about my age didn't really want Mr Richie on board because he was older and eventually persuaded me to leave him out of the crew.

Eventually, Jean came to Basingstoke and moved in with me. The baby was due in July 1972. I continued to work for GPO telephones and Jean would do the housework and generally look after the house. Every Friday I would come home during the day and give Jean £6 to buy the weeks shopping. She became very friendly with Dorothy and Judy next door and we would often go to their house for coffee. Jean's mother and father would come and stay sometimes and we would go to the Isle of Wight sometimes for the weekend. Everything was very happy and Jean liked being pregnant. One day I invited two Mormons to come to the house in a moment of weakness. Just before they arrived Jean went next door to get away. When they arrived they wouldn't start until Jean came back. She did eventually but it was awkward and I couldn't wait to get rid of them. I went out of the room for a drink of water while one of our guests was reading from the bible. When I came back into the room he looked at me and remarked it was a lovely passage. I thought he was talking about the hallway I had just decorated and I retorted in all innocence that I had only decorated it last week. By the look on his face, I suddenly realised that he was talking about the passage from the bible, not my hallway  Very soon after that they left giving us up as inconvertible.

By July Jean was heavily pregnant but showed no sign of giving birth. She was asked to go into the hospital to be induced. She was admitted to the North Hants Hospital maternity unit where she was induced and quickly went into labour. I was contacted and went to the hospital in the GPO van. I had to wait in the waiting room talking to another father to be, as fathers were discouraged from being in the delivery room. It was still a place for just doctors and nurses. I was there for hours and later Judy, my neighbour turned up in her police uniform and sat with me for some of the time. In the delivery room, the baby was reluctant to enter the world and Jean was having a bad time. Eventually, a device known as forceps was used to widen the aperture and allow the baby to be born. I was then allowed in the see an exhausted mother and child. When I saw Jean I immediately started crying it was all too much. Then I was permitted to see the newborn. It was a boy and had been put in an incubator because of the traumatic birth. I was quickly ushered out and told to go home. It was the 9^th July 1972. I think Jean stayed in the hospital a couple of days then I came and collected her in the GPO van and took mother and baby home. Jean was in her element looking after the new baby and of course because she was a midwife knew exactly what to do. We decided to call our baby Duncan James. James is my middle name. Duncan, we had decided on before if it was a boy. I had imagined a child constantly crying and waking us up every night, but it wasn`t too bad. Duncan was being breastfed so there was little for me to do. The washing machine was always in use and the line full of nappies drying in the wind and the newborn slept most of the time either in his cot or in the pram out in the garden with a cat net over the pram.

There was no such thing as paternity leave so I continued to work and would pop back in the van for lunch and sometimes for a coffee break. I think Jean's mother and father came over to see the new baby and lots of people made a fuss of mother and child. It was a very happy time. However my interest in sailing and wanting to go off for weekend sails with my crew was there and sometimes I would go leaving Jean on her own with the baby. This caused some resentment from Jean and on my return on Sunday night, it was obvious to me that she was in a bad mood and we would have a nasty row and I was struck for the first time. This was new and it had never happened before and I found it really upsetting and had to put it down to some kind of maternal instinct caused by her not thinking I was giving her the support she needed with a new baby. On the other hand, I considered I was around most of the time and gave her all the back up I could.

I continued with my work in Basingstoke working as a telephone fitter. Sometimes I would be asked to fit a phone extension as a favour. In those times all equipment was rented from the GPO. I would carry spare phones on the van which I could use. One day my next-door neighbour wanted a red extension in her bedroom. I offered to do it. There was a shortage of wires all those years ago and people would share. This was known as shared service and caused all sorts of problems when sharing partners wanted to make a call and their sharing partner was on the phone. The receiver could be lifted and the conversation overheard. You had a choice. Either you could wait patiently or you could politely interrupt or be rude and dial over the conversation or rudely demand they get off the line. The technical system was a bit strange with the metering and ringing system being controlled by one wire and earth circuit whereas the talking circuit was on two wires. Whilst putting the red extension phone into my neighbour's bedroom I reversed the wires by mistake and although it worked, every time she used the phone it activated her sharing partners meter and they were paying. This went on for six months until the GPO discovered what was happening and sent someone around to change the wiring.

Life continued as a new father and husband and I was happy most of the time. Many people would look at the baby and make a fuss and I felt very proud. I remember suddenly starting to feel closer to Duncan when he became about six months old and began responding to me by laughing when I talked to him. I could make him laugh. I used to take him for short walks in his pram and found myself enjoying life very much. The first Christmas in 1972 was spent with Jean`s parents in Basingstoke. For the first time in years, I had a Christmas tree with all the presents left underneath. It was really colourful and exciting with the new baby appearing to smile and enjoy his first Christmas.

Me and Duncan

Duncan`s first Christmas age 5 months

 Jean was very close to her parents especially her mother and wanted them both to take an interest in the new baby. I found myself being jealous of this relationship and started to resent this. Her mother was always so important to her and I felt they seemed at times to gang up against me. We had many arguments about this and it spoiled our relationship. I found her mother to be domineering, one-sided and of course a bit of a trouble maker. When she referred to anything it was just Jean`s baby or Jean`s house, completely undiplomatic. I was over-sensitive and new to the business of being married and having in-laws, totally young and naive. On the other hand, I should have been treated in a more mature sensitive way by my wife and her mother, especially as I had no parents alive I could visit or talk to.

We used to visit the Isle of Wight on a regular basis and I thought it was a pleasant place. It wasn`t long before Jean suggested we ought to move there. She said it would be a lovely area to bring up Duncan. I thought that this was a good idea and I had my interest in boats and sailing and imagined Chamois bobbing around on her mooring not too far away from where I lived. One problem was my job in Basingstoke. I enjoyed my employment, but was going nowhere but liked the freedom I had with my own van and working on my own with very little pressure. I started making some enquiries about a transfer but soon came to a dead-end and was told there were no vacancies on the Island. I eventually approached the Union as I was told they might be able to help. They did try but it was obviously going to be a long drawn out process and might take several years. Jean was eager to get to the Island with a young baby she wanted the support of her parents. She suggested it wouldn`t matter if I was unemployed for a while and could look for a job when I arrived and she would try and obtain a couple of nights work at St Marys Hospital. Her enthusiasm was beginning to rub off on me, but I just couldn`t become unemployed on purpose. I looked in the Isle of Wight County Press and saw that Plessey Radar-based near Cowes were looking for Wiremen to assemble radar equipment. I thought I could do this and sent for details and an application form.

Duncan`s Christening

Meanwhile, we put the house in Basingstoke on the market with an estate agent. Our asking price was £11,700 for the semi-detached bungalow. We had some interest but it was rather slow, but eventually, a lady on her own took some interest and agreed to buy it. We had previously looked at a chalet bungalow in Old Road, East Cowes. The asking price was £12500 and we said we would buy if our house sold. The vendors were very keen to sell to us and reduced the price to £12000 if I would take out a bridging loan. I would not do this at I felt I might get into a difficult situation financially so waited until our house sale was definite. We eventually lost the chalet bungalow but as our sale became more certain Jean visited the Island and found a bungalow at Whippingham Heights near East Cowes that she liked. The asking price was £12,500. She liked it so we agreed to buy it. It was owned by a family who was moving to Weymouth. Their name was Barton and the husband was an insurance agent and had been given a promotion. During the time it was taking to complete our sale he tried to put us under pressure to get things moving and kept threatening to put the house on the market again. In the end, I had to speak to the estate agent who told me he should not be phoning me directly and should speak to them if there was a problem. A couple of years later we heard he had been killed in a car crash which must have been a very sad conclusion for his family and their move to the mainland.

By about May 1973, it was almost certain the two sales would be completed and I had to think about giving my notice into my employer, GPO telephones. Plessey Radar had offered me a job at their Cowes factory and even agreed to pay my removal expenses and my lodgings if there was a gap in me starting work and moving to my house. I was due to start there in late May. It was a bit sad leaving the GPO as I had enjoyed the work and got on well with some of the men. They had a collection for me. But all the money they gave me I had to pay my employer for lost tools which amused my workmates.

I still had my boat moored in Langstone Harbour and set about trying to get a mooring on the Medina River near the Folly Inn. I manage to obtain a pile mooring quite easily and sailed my boat across and tied her up securely. The idea was that Jean and Duncan would stay in Basingstoke until August when we took possession of the new house and I would move in advance to start my new job and go home at weekends. My mother in law would give me accommodation and a receipt and I would pay her my lodgings allowance from Plessey.

I began my new job one Monday morning after walking the two miles to the factory. I had to clock in and stand around until 9am when I could sit down at a bench and start work. Not one of the other men introduced themselves or said hello. I was given a box of components and a wiring diagram and left to it while the supervisor walked around watching everyone without hardly a word. I had never worked in such an unfriendly unsupported atmosphere in my life, but I persevered with my project which was a piece of radar equipment. I had been put on a months probation to see how I got on.

After staying at Jean`s mother's house for a couple of weeks I thought I would like to live on my boat. I had always wanted to live aboard a boat and thought this was my opportunity. The only problem was I still needed a mother in law to give me the receipt to get my lodging allowance from Plessey. I found out she didn`t want to do this. She wanted to keep the money and just buy me some food to take to the boat. When I complained to Jean I was furious to discover my wife wanted me just to pay her mother regardless. It caused quite a lot of resentment on my part as at that time of buying new property money was short. In addition, I didn't think it was fair but knew I wouldn't be considered to be in the right. I moved onto my boat and would row ashore in the mornings jump onto my Honda 50 that was parked at the Folly Inn and ride to work. It worked reasonably well until one day I got absolutely soaked when it poured with rain between Chamois and the Folly Inn.

I was not enjoying my new job very much. I felt very much an outcast. It wasn't anything like the GPO where there was talking and laughing. I would turn up in the morning and clock in. If I was late money would be deducted from my wages. I quickly realised I had taken a job on the shop floor. In other words, I was hourly paid and not salaried and ready to withdraw my labour if my employer did something the union didn't agree with. Every so often during the day we were told to down tools and attend a meeting. This consisted of the union leader who was a big man with a loud voice standing on a box telling us how Plessey had broken the rules and we should vote to strike by a show of hands. Every time the men voted they voted to strike and I think many were afraid not to. I didn't raise my hand because as I was on probation the union would not make me a member. One day I got to work early and the wireman was talking in their friendship groups. I had no one to talk to because I thought it was because wasn`t an Islander so I sat down at my bench and arranged my tools. Suddenly there was a loud voice in my ear telling me the men don`t begin work before 9am, did I understand? It was the union leader who had never spoken to me before. I was so shocked by his tone and volume that I didn't answer. He immediately repeated himself in an intimidating way in front of everyone standing there. I just got up from the bench feeling as though I had committed murder and was being arrested.

On the Friday after work, I would catch the ferry to Basingstoke to stay with Jean and Duncan. When I arrived I would often find Jean stressed and unhappy but could never discover why. I remember it used to make me angry because I felt she was getting everything she wanted and I was giving up everything I enjoyed and happy doing. I remember one weekend we had a really awful row and I felt dreadful as I often did if there was conflict. It was the weekend in July 1973 that a BEA Trident crashed after taking off from Heathrow and two Red Arrows planes collided while practising their manoeuvres. The weather was awful and I felt so depressed.

The routine continued and at Plessey, I finished my first piece of equipment. After completion, it had to be tested by the testing staff who sat nearby but were salaried. I remember they would often give us disproving looks because we were the rabble. It was brought to my attention that eight faults had been found and that it had taken me twice as long as anyone else to wire this piece of equipment. Not a very good start and I was informed by letter they were extending my probation by another four weeks. I was given another box of components and a diagram and left to assemble it.

I remember being sent upstairs to see a white-collar man about something. After difficulty finding him, I found his office and knocked on the door. There was no answer so I opened the door. The man was talking to a lady. Before I could say sorry he blasted me with words about entering an office when he was busy. This was done no doubt to impress the female. I just closed the door and returned to the shop floor. I had never come across such rude unfriendly people in my life and began to wonder why I had come to the Isle of Wight.

My sailing boat Chamois of Wight anchored off Gurnard. She was a 24` Trident Class

Life on board Chamois of Wight was alright but rather lonely. I had everything I needed on board. Luckily the evenings were long and the nights short. There were two boats moored nearby, one called Helmi and the other named Kayak with people living onboard, like me. They seemed quite stuck up and never looked my way so it didn`t help my negative feeling about the place I had come to live. I finished wiring my second piece of equipment and it was duly tested by the testers. I never heard anything then the foreman ask me to come to his office. When I arrived the Union leader was there and I was informed that I was going to be sacked. The union man spoke to me for the first time in a civil way and whispered that the men would come out on strike if I wanted them to. I replied that that wouldn't be necessary. I was taken to the personnel department and formally dismissed. The union man negotiated an extra three weeks wages and they agreed to still pay my removal costs. I later discovered that most of the wiremen had served three-year electrical apprenticeships to learn their trade, so I felt a little better. Luckily there were plenty of jobs at the time but most of them were poorly paid. I was quite relieved to leave that factory although by that time I had found a few people to chat to.

I returned to Basingstoke to live at home, but luckily Jean heard that she had been offered a midwifery job at St Mary`s Hospital. It would just be for two nights a week. There was lots of packing to do so I did not bother looking for employment on the Island. Soon August arrived and it was time to move over. The removal men efficiently shipped our processions and we followed in the green Austin mini and started settling into the new bungalow. There was lots to do but had the help of Jean`s mother and Christine who was Jean`s brother's wife. Later Jean began her new job and she worked two nights and the next day she slept.  I would look after Duncan. Either amusing him playing games or making something or going out for long walks in the pushchair. I was very anti TV at the time especially for children so I always tried to do something interesting with Duncan. I would often push him to Cowes via the floating bridge and walk through the town and towards Gurnard. He enjoyed every minute and never complained about being bored or cold. Sometimes we were gone for hours. It gave me a purpose having a child to help look after and bring up.

The only thing I was worried about was not being employed. I didn`t feel right without a job. Later in the summer I found a temporary job picking maize or sweetcorn on a farm at Newchurch. I had to use the car to get there. There were many people employed and we would be taken to the fields that had to be harvested by tractor and trailer, given bags to wear and told to walk through the rows breaking off the sweetcorn. When our bags were full we emptied them into a trailer. In the afternoon we would stand in a barn and trim the corn with a guillotine and put them in boxes. They would then be taken inside wrapped, boxed, labelled and were then ready sent to the shop to be sold. Although it was a dead-end temporary job I quite enjoyed doing it. Eventually, it finished and I was out of work again. I had been signing on at the Labour Exchange and was told there would be some jobs for postmen soon. This appealed to me as I considered it to be a low-pressure job with plenty of exercise and I didn`t mind getting up early and I was working for my old employer the GPO.

When I had stopped living on the boat and moved into the house I had left my little yacht tender tied up on the Folly Inn pontoon. I had just left it there for two months thinking it would be safe. One day I got a phone call from the River Police asking if I owned a dinghy. I suddenly remembered it and told them I did. I was told it had been found floating down the river. I also remembered I had written the telephone number on the stern. The police said they would tie it back onto the pontoon for me. Also, one day when I was on Chamois doing some jobs a police launch came alongside and questioned me about the ownership of the boat. When they were satisfied it was mine they told me further down the river they had done the same to another man working on his boat who looked like an old tramp. He had turned out to be an RAF Air Vice Marshal.

I applied for a postman's job and was interviewed upstairs at the Post office in Newport. I was offered a job and told I would be based at the sorting office in East Cowes. I would have to be down at the sorting office a 5am to start work. It was November 1973. I turned up on my Honda 50 motorcycle just in time to meet the boss of the sorting office opening the gate. I introduced myself and he eyed me suspiciously as if to say what we got here. It was a small office and there were four postmen and one postman higher grade. The mail was delivered in sacks and each sack was emptied. It was the postman's job to grab a handful of letters and put them into the right pigeon hole. Each hole had the name of a street in East Cowes or Whippingham. It was boring never-ending work but the radio was always on and the other postmen were quite cheery. Once the letters were sorted we were told what round we were doing. We then organised our letters street by street making sure they were in numerical order and packed them into a bag that would fit into the carrier on the front of a bike. Frank one of the experienced postman accompanied me and showed me what to do. I was warned about aggressive dogs, awkward people and houses with no numbers. The work had to be done at a brisk pace and involved plenty of exercise. After the letters were delivered we got an hours break, then it was time to take the parcels. We would have everything finished by about 2pm and then could go home.

I quite enjoyed the job and began to get fitter. At first, my asthma slowed me down but as I got fitter my chest showed some improvement. I think cycling helped tremendously. I had to learn all the rounds one after another, including the country route that involved taking the mail in the red van. It was approaching Christmas so the flow of mail gradually increased. I never really got on with Mr Jackman the postman higher grade, Mr Jackman who considered me too slow at sorting and delivering. I often had arguments with him and I was determined not to do exactly what he told me. I resented his sergeant major attitude. Later one of the men told me he had been a sergeant in the army. He had been a postman for many years at East Cowes and was always talking about the snow of 1947. My job involved sometimes working on a Sunday on the other side of the river in Cowes sorting letters and emptying pillar boxes. Sometimes on delivery, I would put a letter in the wrong house. Often the resident would give me the letter the next day when the right house was next door. Sometimes an individual would get so upset that I had put the wrong letter in their letterbox.  I remember being shouted at for leaning my bike against a fence and walking on the grass instead of the footpath. It seemed sometimes that all some people wanted to do was to moan at the postman. Once on the country round after finishing, I found two first-class letters in the sack that had slipped out from the bunches of mail. It meant me going back some way so I re-posted the letters in the pillar box thinking they could be delivered the next day. The next day at the sorting office they were discovered and they had been on my round. I was given a severe talking to by the boss about the importance of delivering the first-class post. I never did it again.

In June 1973 we hired a caravan in Dorset on a site for a week`s holiday. The worst thing you can have for a holiday in a caravan is bad weather. When we arrived it started raining. It was depressing and that night in bed my chest started to get wheezy. I was using my puffer that had been prescribed. I could not get to sleep and my chest just got worst. I kept using the puffer. Suddenly I remember the room spinning then nothing else until I was in an ambulance with pins and needles in my arms. Then I woke up in a hospital and could hear a doctor shouting at Jean. It was a horrible cottage hospital in Dorchester in Dorset. The doctor was cross at being called to the hospital for my admittance on a Sunday morning. I spend nearly a week there and my chest was really bad and was not responding to treatment. I hated the atmosphere and staff in the little place and had no faith in them. They decided to transfer me to the Weymouth hospital where I immediately felt comfortable and the staff were efficient and friendly. I started to feel better and the treatment made my chest better in no time. Jean and Duncan would come and see me every evening and by the end of the week, I was ready to leave. It was the end of the holiday and on the way home, we stayed one night in the Struan Hotel opposite Petherton Cottage near Ringwood. I remember the licensee showing off with a parrot on her shoulder in front of her customers.

What had happened in the caravan was I had overdosed on the puffer. The number of puffs you should take was no more than eight a day. That night I had taken dozens until it knocked me out. Jean had woken up found me unconscious and incontinent and ran to another caravan to ask for help. The man had helped her find a phone and they had dialled for an ambulance. I found out later that I was lucky to survive overdosing, many people who had done the same thing had died. When I returned to the Isle of Wight my doctor changed my inhaler to a Ventolin which didn't affect the heart so much.

I carried on with my job as a postman but became increasingly more frustrated with the routine, unsociable hours and the thought of having to do a job like this for the rest of my working life. I knew I was capable of doing a job that required more thinking and talking than being a postman and I kept thinking about Dorothy and her suggestions that I would make a good teacher because of my experience in commerce and industry and many interests. I was 27 years old so still young enough to change tack, although the main obstacle was I had to support a wife and child. I pondered about the situation and considered whether I could actually enter the teaching profession and succeed at it. I thought it was probably my last chance to have a decent job. I consulted Dorothy about my thinking and she was very keen on the idea. In fact, she sent for all the papers from Portsmouth College of Education. At that time teachers were needed everywhere and there was a shortage and fellow teachers were keen to welcome young people into the profession. Many teachers were men who had left the services at the end of the war and done a six-month course to enter teaching. Eventually, I completed the paperwork and was asked to attend an interview in Portsmouth. The interview went well and I was offered a place starting in September 1974. This was exactly ten years after starting my first college course in Bournemouth. I applied for my tuition fees and a maintenance grant. I had mature student status so was entitled to a little extra money. Everything was agreed and eventually, I gave in my notice to the post office. I was asked if I was sure about leaving a good job for a college course. It was good to know they didn`t want me to leave.

I had my doubts about my abilities to become a teacher. The standards seemed high to me and in those days teachers were considered very professional people and regarded in the top ten per cent of the workforce. Also, I did not consider myself academic but more of a practical person. I imagined the other students might be very clever and from public school backgrounds. My plan was to use my Honda 50 motorcycle to ride to Ryde. Park in the Prince Consult carpark, walk up the pier and catch the steamer to The Hard in Portsmouth. Then I would catch the bus to Fratton where the college was located. In 1974 three steamers plied the route. They were the Shanklin, the Sandown and the Brading.

Christmas in  1974

My training was to become a Middle School teacher. This was the same as a Junior School Teacher. In other words a little knowledge about most subjects in the curriculum. However, I had to choose the main subject. My choice was Geography. I always found the subject interesting and used to do well in my school days. Another area we had to study was Education that we had to cover in detail. I remember my long walk along Ryde Pier to catch the steamer on the first day. The day was bright but windy. I arrived at the college and enjoyed meeting my new colleagues who seemed ordinary thoughtful students and was inspired by the talk given by the Principal who said it was more important what kind of person the teacher was than the knowledge he had. It gave me hope as it was a long time since I had been at school and there was so much I didn`t have a clue about. I settled into my routine of attending college every day and began to enjoy the course. I made two main friends who were also mature students. Jock and Fred. They were both ex-servicemen and their main subject was the same as mine. I tackled my first two assignments and when they were both marked I got Bs which meant I was just above average. The last few weeks of the first term were to be spent in school. It wasn`t a teaching practice but a four-week teaching observation. The school I chose was a middle school in Ryde called Bishop Lovett. I was placed with the Geography teacher, Mr Wells whose lessons I enjoyed. He talked to the children as a whole class and made the talk interesting by adding a few stories. A good idea for bored pupils. I also went into other classes and took a few small groups myself, then gave a Geography lesson to a Year 8 class on commercial fishing, complete with chalk diagrams on the blackboard. It was my first time and it went quite well for the first lesson. My second lesson was on the weather and this did not go as well and taught me good preparation was important. At the end of the five weeks, I had survived and still carried on with the course.

In 1975 we were invited to Guernsey in the Channel Islands by Jean's mother who was staying there working for a wealthy yachting family who had moved from the Isle of Wight. We flew from Southampton Airport to Jersey, then took a short flight to the Island of Guernsey. It started out being a pleasant holiday. I even did a little college work there on landforms, but one day Duncan, my son who was three years old didn't seem very well. He had lost weight very quickly, was thirsty all the time and blisters had appeared on his leg. We took him to the hospital in Guernsey one evening because he didn't get any better and we were both extremely worried about him. The doctor walked in didn't examine him and told us he just had had a bit too much sun and told us to take him home and he would be alright. We knew this wasn't right so the next day we flew back to Southampton early. Whilst on the flight Duncan was nearly unconscious and when we got back to the Isle of Wight we went straight to the doctor's surgery. The receptionist told us to go away and make an appointment and we had to insist he saw a doctor. The doctor was rude to us but agreed Duncan looked toxic and we were told to take him to Ryde Hospital. The young doctor there very quickly diagnosed that Duncan had diabetes and he was put in the children's ward on a drip. I found it one of the most upsetting experiences I had had to deal with and 24 hours later when we went back and visited him he looked back to normal, but was kept in hospital for a few days.

Jean and I both had to learn about taking care of a child with diabetes. We had to do regular urine tests, watch what Duncan ate and give him injections twice a day. Also, be prepared for the dreaded hypo attack if his blood sugar should go down too low. It was all a bit scary and a big responsibility and made me very nervous if I was taking him out or looking after him for a night if Jean was working at the hospital.

Life at college continued and I quite enjoyed the challenge of it all. I was doing reasonably well at my assignments and obtaining average and above-average results. For my second teaching practise I completed a term at Mayfield Middle School in Ryde. There were three other students as well as me. I found the teaching quite challenging and spent hours working in the evening on lesson plans. Working in a school all seems very strange but I have to say most of the staff were pleasant. I tried very hard to keep the lessons as concrete as possible showing the children real objects, pictures and taking them out of school, rather than being very abstract in my approach. Middle School children generally were still at the stage when they need stimulus to understand rather than just chalk and talk. At the end of the teaching practise I obtained a C grade which is average and I must admit was a little disappointed at this.

I had sold my boat called Chamois of Wight in 1974 just before starting at college as I thought I couldn't afford the expense of keeping a boat if I was living on a grant. However, I was still mad about sailing. I saw an advert in the newspaper offering a trip to France in a 50` Pilot Sailing Cutter over the Easter weekend for £25. I contacted the owner and was signed on as crew. There were six paying crew and the owner, Les and his girlfriend. Les lived on his boat on the River Medina and was trying to make a bit of money running sailing trips that year. We had a pleasant voyage, west along the Solent past the Needles and then headed due South towards Cherbourg. We reached the French port after about 12 hours, tied up and explored the port, drinking in the bars. I met Brad who had done the same as me and paid to be crew and he had just come to live on the Island and was the assistant Educational Psychologist. We got on well and he became a life long friend of mine, both being interested in boats and sailing.

 Les, the skipper decided to sail back overnight to the Island and we left when the weather had deteriorated somewhat. After nearly hitting the harbour breakwater because the skipper had mistaken a navigation light we left the relative calm of the harbour and found ourselves beating into big seas and were going to have do this all night. At times it felt like the hull was going to smash with the pounding. It was very uncomfortable and a bit frightening. I was so glad when Les decided to turn back and wait until morning. In the daylight, the wind had abated somewhat and we left Cherbourg and had a good sail back to the Isle of Wight and I was pleased by the fact that on the trip I was the only person who hadn't been seasick.

The boat we sailed to France in. Marguerite T
100 years old.... Photo by Beckan of Cowes

When we got to the Medina River the skipper hoisted his yellow flag to ask for custom's clearance and we motored up the river to his mooring. No one was allowed ashore before custom's had visited the boat. A launch came alongside and a very polite officer came aboard and after a little checking and discussion seemed satisfied and the launch came back alongside to collect him. Instead of him leaving six officers came aboard in the most aggressive manner and the senior chap took the skipper below for questioning and the others searched everywhere and everything. I remember there was a little jar of soap powder, it was opened, sniffed and the officer said to me in a sharp voice, `What's this?` I replied `Just soap powder, that`s all.` After an hour they couldn't find anything and without apology, the launch came back and they all left. Les was so shaken he told us all he would leave the Isle of Wight and eventually he did so.

I decided I could afford a small sailing dinghy and went to see one that was advertised at Bembridge. It had just been painted was about 12` long and not too expensive. I told the owner I would have it and kept it at the Folly Inn ashore on a trolley and Brad and I used to go out for sailing trips in it. One day the mast fell down while in the Solent and hit me on the head and we had to be towed back into the safety of the harbour. I never did find out what class it was but we had some good times sailing it. When Duncan was a bit older I would take him out in it along the coast. I kept it for about six years then eventually sold it for about the same money I had paid for it and for a while didn't have a boat.

I continued with my teaching course in Portsmouth and would travel every day to Ryde on my Honda 50 motorcycle, park it near the pier, walk along the half-mile pier and catch the steamer to Portsmouth. After which I jumped on a bus to the college near Fratton. Whilst at college I went on two field trips with the Geography Department. Once to Sheffield see an industrial area and once to the Isle of Wight to study Geology and Landforms. Whilst in Sheffield we went down a coal mine. It was called Caphouse Colliery and us students had to crawl a quarter of a mile along the coalface where the coal was cut. It was an experience never to be forgotten and after I always had respect for any miner who works on the coalface. On the Isle of Wight field trip, I learned so much about the place I lived. I had not realised how much of the sedimentary rock had been formed during the hundred million years the dinosaurs ruled the earth and the evidence and finds of bones that are still being made from that period.

Looking after a diabetic child was always a concern. It was awful to read the publications about the disease and the long term complications. Duncan was only three years old and had his whole life in front of him. To keep him healthy and free from problems it was important to keep his blood sugar as near normal as possible, not too high or too low. This was difficult in a child, more so than an adult. I was always watching him and his mood. As this was often an indication of his blood sugar level. Sometimes he would have a hypo attack and I had to give him glucose tablets. Sometimes having to force them into his mouth because he would get very awkward. If it was a severe hypo the glucose didn't work and Jean and I had to take him to the diabetic department at the hospital with him screaming. When he started school the staff didn't know anything about diabetes and took no responsibility for his diet at lunchtime and he was considered an oddity. Jean had to collect him and bring him home for lunch. Sometimes when he had a mild hypo in the classroom and his mood changed he would be punished for bad behaviour. I'm glad to say that things in school have now changed and diabetic children are now monitored and understood. Also, they are not so volatile as they used to be with the coming of human insulins and blood sugar direct readings rather than urine tests.

For my final teaching practise I was sent to Osborne Middle School just along the road from where I lived. I immediately felt at home in the school and I had Ron Lawrence as my mentor who was a Geography specialist and ex RAF officer. In other words a teacher with experience outside teaching, unlike many teachers who knew nothing else but life in the classroom. I mainly taught year 6 children general subjects and I brought in objects to show and talk about that I thought would interest the children. In addition, I accompanied the children with Ron Lawrence to a residential education centre at Shorwell on the Island and later went to The Isle of Arran in Scotland with a group. I was well-liked by the children, parents and staff and at the end, I received credit for my teaching.

I was coming to the end of my three years and would have to start looking for a job. Unfortunate everything had changed during my three years of study. The government had discovered they had a surplus of teachers and there had been a dip in the birth rate together with budget restraints and suddenly there were very few jobs out there. I wanted to work on the Isle of Wight. Jean didn't want to move back to the mainland to a city where jobs were still plentiful, so I applied for about the only three suitable jobs that came upon the Island in 1977. I had an interview for each one together with other candidates. After carrying out the interviews, each time the school appointed someone who had been working in the school already and my conclusion was that our interviews were just carried out so the rules of appointment were not broken. In other words, the schools knew who they wanted but had to interview other candidates so they could claim the process was fair. For me, this was quite frustrating and it seemed I was not going to get employment for the Autumn Term of 1977.

At the beginning of the summer holidays out of the blue, I received a phone call from Ron Lawrence from Osborne Middle, where I had done my final teaching practice, asking me if I could do a term's supply from September to Christmas with a year 6 class. Apparently, their teacher had run away with the local vicar so had just informed the school she wouldn't be coming back. Naturally, I was pleased to find a job even if it was for one term. Once working it was so good to be getting a paycheque again and I really enjoyed that term and I was hoping I might be asked to stay on. As time went on it became clear that the Headteacher Mr Davis wanted a PE specialist for the following term and as I wasn't eligible to apply I would have to look elsewhere. There were no jobs to be had on the Isle of Wight, so I contacted Dorothy, Duncan's Godmother who was a teacher in Southampton. She suggested I apply to the `The Pool` in Southampton. Teachers looking for jobs in Southampton would be interviewed and if successful their details distributed to schools in the area for placement. This was called `The Pool`.This is what I did and got an interview in front of a panel which went very well. The next day I received a phone call from Mr Heslop, one of the interviewers on the panel who was a Headmaster of a school at Millbrook called Wimpson Middle School. He offered me a job in his school teaching a special unit class. These were children who had failed in the mainstream and needed a boost and maybe a different approach to get them integrated back into normal classes. The Special Unit class was a new concept in Southampton and very popular at that time with parents and the education department.

Life at home went on and Jean had two-night duties at the local maternity hospital. One of these was a Saturday night. She had to go to bed the next day so to keep the house quiet I would take Duncan out in his pushchair for the day. I would walk for miles pushing him, make a picnic buy ice cream. He was always very happy to just go out and was never any problem. Of course, I had to watch him carefully in case he showed any signs of having a hypo, but generally, he was a happy contented child.

My own health had stabilized so much and although I was often on a low maintenance dose of oral steroid, I had stopped having the most debilitating attacks of asthma, but sometimes Jean had to call the doctor because I was ill. Gradually with modern steroid inhalers which could spray the area of the bronchial tubes directly without the need to circulate the harmful steroid around the body, the taking of more exercise and general better diet my asthma gradually improved year by year. In my total ignorance of the harmful effect of smoking when I felt well I would smoke. Sometimes a pipe, cigarettes or cigars. I never smoked more than ten a day but I was hooked on nicotine. I knew how addicted I was because when I couldn't have a cigarette, I would find myself sniffing my fingers. What I didn't realise was how harmful it was to my already weakened chest. At various times I tried to give up, but could never manage it for long.

I began my teaching job in Southampton in January 1978 and I dreaded the commuting at first as it took three hours a day in total. I parked my Honda 50 motorcycle in the bay at the Red Funnel car park in Southampton. I would catch the 7am bus from where I lived at Whippingham to East Cowes, then board the 7.30am ferry at East Cowes to Southampton that arrived at about 8.30am. I would then start my motorcycle and ride to school, arriving in time for the whistle at 9am. It seemed to work quite well especially for my probationary year. I had a few fog delays and punctures on my motorcycle but everyone was understanding. To cut out having to catch a bus in the mornings to the ferry I decided to buy a second-hand cycle to use. It was downhill in the mornings and uphill in the evenings. I hadn't cycled for a while and discovered how unfit I had become and how awful my chest was. Every evening I would have to push the bike up the long hill if I tried to cycle I just gasped for breath. However day after day I got up the hill a little further each time before I had to push and eventually, I could ride the whole distance and I could feel the exercise helping my chest and it began to dawn on me the benefits of activity and deep breathing.

Mr Heslop the Head of the school was a dedicated Headteacher and ran his school the way he wanted keeping an eye on everything and everyone. I felt he was proud of my efforts and liked the things I did with the children because I did what he had employed me to do. My colleague who took the other unit class, Mrs Jackson was the total opposite to me. She had the loudest voice imaginable and would scream at the children making some of them quiver with fright. Also, her approach to teaching was different from mine, but sometimes we worked together for Games and PE and Assembles. The idea was to integrate these unit children as much as possible at playtimes, lunch and for some lessons, but some of the mainstream pupils called them unrepeatable names and trouble would break out. I organised trips out by hiring a minibus from the local High School and the children were taken out regularly to farms, the New Forest and museums. Mr Heslop appreciated everything I did with my class which made me feel good about what I was doing. In addition to teaching, every member of staff was expected to do an extracurricular activity. I ran a photography club and also a chess club. I built a dark room where the children who were members of the club could process films and make prints. I ran the club after school and once a week didn`t get home until 9pm. The chess club took place at lunchtime and was quite popular with some of the children.

The crew at Wimpson Middle School

I met another motorcyclist who used the ferry. He would park his motorcycle in the same bay as me. He travelled on the same ferries and was a teacher, but worked in Fareham. We started sitting together. His name was Graham Leah and like me, he had done many jobs outside teaching. He used to be in the RAF and was learning to fly jets but couldn't handle the stress the training was putting him through and resigned his commission, then spent his life regretting what he had done. It was about the time the first computers were appearing and he was into this new age. I think he had a ZX Spectrum and was learning all he could about computers. I was interested too but my learning was taking place at a much slower pace. However, I picked up lots from him and he eventually wrote an idiots guide to computing that was published and sold well at first.

Travelling every day on the ferry meant that it was cheaper for me to buy a yearly season ticket even though I didn't use it at weekends or during the long holidays. It had no photograph of me on the ticket and the pursers on the ferry got so used to seeing me I didn't have to even show it to them. When I wasn't using the ticket I would give it to Jean or other people to use even though it said not transferable, my thinking being I had bought it and if I didn't use it someone else could. This lasted some years until the company insisted each season ticket had a photograph on.

Sometimes the weather was bad with storm-force winds. The car ferries usually ran but the crossings were uncomfortable. The captains didn't seem to care about safety thinking the ferries could not capsize and would turn across the roughest of seas without warning anyone when the boat would rock to an alarming degree. When they did this glasses were broken people lost their food and were even thrown onto the floor sometimes and hurt. This only stopped and more care taken after the capsizing of the Herald of Free Enterprise when an unsinkable car ferry capsized. It must have made everyone connected with the sea aware that you can't mess with the sea. If you do, it will get you in the end. One day I was on my way back to East Cowes when a man jumped overboard. By the time the captain was told and turned the ferry around to look for him, he had disappeared. Some of the passengers including myself went on deck trying to spot him but not one of us could see him. The helicopter came out from Lee on the Solent and seemed to know exactly where he was. We watched as he was winched aboard, but later we found out he had died.

On another occasion travelling back to the Island we came to a standstill in the dark outside Cowes Harbour and weren't allowed in. We were held up for over an hour and were eventually told that one of Red Funnel's hydrofoils (these are fast craft that could take passengers to Southampton in 20 minutes) had crashed into the back of a small fishing boat that hadn't got its stern light turned on. It had killed one person on the fishing boat and removed an arm from another man and a leg from a third person and we would be allowed to dock after the police had finished their investigation. It wasn't long before someone invented the sick joke, `It costs an arm and a leg to travel on Red Funnel`

In about 1980 Mr Heslop obtained a new Headship at another school in Southampton. His job was advertised and it was given to a Mr G. This new Head came into school with a completely different attitude. He was willing to please at all costs and everything was much more relaxed. I felt he couldn't take anything seriously and didn't really care. Of course, all the staff were pleased with this new appointment to begin with because it meant everyone was going to have an easier time. Of course, we still worked hard for the children and like many Heads, Mr G favoured new staff he had personally appointed.

In the early part of 1980, I decided I would like to start playing tennis again. George had introduced me to the game years before and I had been a reasonable player. I discovered there were a few tennis clubs on the Isle of Wight. Jean rang up the chairperson of the Ryde Mead Lawn Tennis Club, Ruth Jordan and it was agreed I would come to the club the following Sunday and she would meet me. This is what I did and soon I was attending social tennis sessions every Sunday mornings and Wednesday evenings in the summer. I really enjoyed it and the exercise and I was determined to become a good player as I had the aptitude. I looked forward to Sunday mornings and raced over to the club on Wednesday evenings straight from the ferry after coming back from work.

In late 1979 Jean was pregnant with our second child. I was delighted as we wanted another addition to our family. She loved being pregnant and was always in a wonderful frame of mind and at her best. All the preparations were made and things, like cots, prams were retrieved from the attic that I hadn't seen for years. Everything was going well until Jean had a bleed and it was thought she would lose the baby. She went into a hospital and then came home and it was touch and go for a while. Eventually, she stabilized and everything went smoothly until Richard was born at St Mary's hospital on the 22^nd August 1980. I was allowed to be there at the birth and it was a much better experience than Duncan's birth eight years before.

I started doing some work on alternative technology with the children at school and they built models of renewable energy-producing machines like a solar water heater. A windmill that could produce electricity and many more. It was at a time this sort of technology was in it's infancy. I took some photographs and sent them to a magazine called `Junior Education` with an article. The article and photographs were published and I received a fee and later I got a phone call from the BBC asking if they could bring their film crew to the school and make a programme for their series on `Power`. We had just broken up for the summer holidays when this producer from the BBC came over and met me in Cowes to tell me what he wanted to do. I had no way of contacting Mr G because he didn't give any of his staff his contact details, so I told the producer it would be alright to come to the school. When I told Mr G they were coming on the first day of the following term he didn't seem very happy. I think he thought I had made decisions beyond my station and it should be him deciding what goes on in his school.

During the summer holidays of 1982, I bought a new bicycle. It was a Rayleigh Stratos Sports bike. It was only the second new bike I had ever had. I purchased it at Battersby`s cycle shop in Ryde

and it cost £116. I thought it looked very smart with its drop handlebars and 15-speed gears. I sold my other cycle and decided to go on a trip to Wales and visit the Alternative Technology Centre. I hadn't done any long-distance rides but felt fit enough to try something like this. I caught the Red Funnel ferry to Southampton and started my ride. I had booked myself in at a youth hostel in Chepstow, just on the other side of the Severn Bridge. This meant I had to cycle a hundred miles that day. I just went for it and I hardly stopped for fifty miles. By this time I felt strange and thought I couldn't go on, it was all too much. I stopped, dismounted the bike and found I couldn't walk as my whole body was so weak. I struggled over to a pub and ordered a pint of Shandy and pie. I also asked in the pub if anyone knew if there was a cycle path across the Severn Bridge. The whole pub was discussing it and nobody really knew. I sat down ate my pie and drank my Shandy thinking I would have to go home as I had no strength left. After an hour my old self returned to normal and I felt a new man. I had been suffering from low blood sugar. I continued the ride and by evening the bridge came into view and sure enough there was a cycle path across. I took it and arrived at the youth hostel at Chepstow where I spent the night.

The next day I continued my ride into Wales and had another hundred miles to go. It was a hard ride through the mountains and I got a puncture which I had difficulty mending. It poured with rain and I was having to pump my tyre up every five miles or so. Although I was booked in at another youth hostel I was six miles away when it got dark. I looked for accommodation and got a B&B in a small town. There were two youth cyclists staying there and the landlady, an elderly Welsh lady, kept complaining about how the English were stealing the water from Wales. In the morning I helped one of the other cyclists mend a puncture and while I was busy the landlady caught his colleague in my room with my wallet in his hand. I was grateful to her for catching him. After paying my bill I cycled to the Alternative Technology Centre and spent a pleasant day looking around at the future.

I had developed a bad cold, so later in the day cycled south and stayed at another hostel in the wilds, but the next day caught the train back to Southampton as I felt so exhausted and full of cold, a little disappointed I had not completed the round trip.

I had been doing a project with the children at school on good eating and health and I had also considered myself to be overweight, so decided to become thinner thinking it would be good for my tennis, cycling and general health. I restricted what I ate and got used to feeling hungry. When you embark on something like this you have to be very careful to know when to stop and when enough is enough. I was missing breakfast jogging at lunchtime and the pounds were coming off quickly. I got down to 11 stone and 4 lbs and felt fit and energised. Unfortunately, I didn't appear fit and people were worried about me and my gaunt appearance. I had to visit my doctor about something unrelated and he took one look at me and sent me for an x-ray because I'm sure he felt I had TB again. I was OK, but gradually realised I had over done it and stopped the diet and gradually got back to looking normal again.

The BBC turned up at the school and filmed the children with their models and interviewed them and also myself. The crew were there for two days and a lot of cheating went on in the filming when things didn't work. For example,, the water in the solar water heater didn't heat up because there was no sun that day, so hot water from the kettle was poured into the tank to pretend the sun had heated the water. Also, the solar cooker was supposed to cook the food when it was pointing towards the sun. It normally worked well, but as there was no sun it didn't work that day. The food was cooked in the staffroom on the stove and then brought out steaming and filmed as though it had been heated by concentrated sunlight. Everything went well and eventually, the children had the satisfaction of seeing themselves on TV in an educational programme called `Power`. Although the filming had taken two days the duration of the part filmed at the school and shown in the programme lasted only 15 minutes.

Life continued with work, holidays, home life and the new addition, Richard was growing up and I was doing everything a dad does when he has two children. I used to try and read to them just before bedtime every evening. I remember the Famous Five books, Doctor Suse, Secret Seven and the Ladybird Books about every subject. I took them out as much as possible for walks along the beach, the local tourist attractions like Robin Hill, Black Gang Chine. It was always fun to be with your own children answering their questions and enjoying their development.

An article I had published in Junior Education magazine

After my first article for Junior Education, I started writing more articles for the magazine. The editor was keen to have as much material as possible from practising teachers. I enjoyed writing about some of the project work I was doing with my pupils and I could illustrate the article with photographs that I had taken. It also provided me with a little extra money. My name and the school would appear at the end and many teachers read the magazine including the Heads wife. I began to realise that the Head didn't like me receiving the kudos and fees for these articles and showed obvious annoyance when teachers far and wide would ring the school and ask questions about the work that had been written about by me and he didn`t know anything about it. I think he thought I should have given the money to the school but knew he was on the sticky ground and never asked me to do so. Out of the blue, I received a letter from the Editor of Junior Education telling me my Head had written and asked how much I had received for my work. They had told him it was confidential and between them and me. So I continued to write much to his annoyance and had many articles published.

In the 1980s the wages received by teachers were poor. I was struggling to pay my bills and buy food for the family. My mother-in-law worked in the kitchen at Padmore House, a local hotel. The proprietor needed the outside painting. I offered my services as a painter and every Saturday spent the day painting the hotel. The job went on all through the summer. I think he was paying me about £2 per hour. He was always interfering with my work and trying to cut the costs and telling me how to paint. One day in his smartest outfit and best shoes, on his way to meet the hotel guests, he started telling me how teachers didn't know anything about cost-effectiveness and running a business. While lecturing me he stepped into my tin of white paint and couldn't get his foot out. He then stumbled, fell over with all the paint spilling onto his expensive trousers. I couldn't help laughing because it reminded me of the TV programme, Fawlty Towers.

Before long I kept thinking about another sailing dinghy. I really wanted an Enterprise, but I didn`t have the money to buy one. My mother-in-law offered me a loan, to be paid back by instalments. I put an advertisement in the local paper and got a call from a chap who was giving up sailing after many years and had a boat called Haggis for sale. He obviously looked after her very well as he was going to vanish her before the sale. She was supposed to be a race winner and had won many events at the Shanklin Sailing Club where he kept her. I agree to buy her for £300. I took delivery and kept her at the East Cowes sailing club. I didn't like the club very much and eventually left and joined the Gurnard Sailing Club which was in a far better position for racing in the Solent. I started racing her in the handicap series at the weekend and on Wednesday evenings when I would sometimes get off the ferry and go straight to the club and enter a race. I didn't do that well it was very much the taking part that counted. There were some very good sailors of almost Olympic standard who were gifted and had been racing all their lives. However, I did manage to win a few races. One event was a passage race along the shore from Gurnard to Newtown. During the race, all the boats were well spaced out so I wasn't paying much attention. Suddenly from behind the sail, a sailing dinghy appeared. It was too late to take avoiding action and I smashed into the plywood side making a huge hole in the hull of the other boat. The cavity was above the waterline so the boat was not in any danger of sinking. When we finished the race I was exonerated because I had been on the starboard tack and the other boat was on the port tack, although both of us weren`t paying attention, I had had right of way. So my insurance was safe for the time being and my boat wasn`t damaged.

Later on, I saw a small glass fibre boat for sail called a mini-sail. It was very cheap and to sail it you had to be agile and fit. It only had a mainsail. I bought it and took it to the club one day in April when there was a race. I thought I should have got used to the boat first, but I joined in one of the races. I left the shore to get to the starting line and the wind increased, I tried to tack and she would not come about. Before long I was in deep water and well offshore. Suddenly I capsized. I knew what to do and got her up and I climbed back into the boat, but she went over again. The water was so cold all my energy had gone in five minutes, all I could do was hold onto the boat and await rescue. I think I was in the water for half an hour and I was slowly passing out with hypothermia and having strange thoughts about life insurance. Eventually, I was pulled aboard the rescue boat and taken to the club. All my skin felt sore and I was light-headed. I had to be carried up the slipway as I couldn't walk and given a hot shower, gradually recovering in the process. I eventually learned to sail the mini-sail quite well and had her for many years.

In 1983 we decided to hire another boat on the River Thames at Reading. It was a four-berth motor cruiser, wide beam with forward steering. Richard was 3 years old and Duncan eleven years. I remember Richard just refused to put his life jacket on. When I insisted he would wear it, then secretly take it off. This went on all through the week aboard. Today I find it funny when he insists his children wear one when aboard his boat. It was during this holiday that Jean had these funny feelings and thought she might be pregnant again and after the holiday her pregnancy was confirmed by the doctor.

That year I got invited by my school to join the annual French Trip. It was called Operation Le Havre. Schools in Southampton went over to Le Havre and stayed in French Schools for a week. I did not know what to expect or whether I would enjoy it that much, not being a French speaker. We caught the ferry from Southampton and made the six-hour crossing. I remember as we were trying to dock in Le Havre feeling the heat from the continent blowing onto the deck of the ship. We were transported to the school and welcomed by a group of French people who were our hosts for the week. We shared the school with staff and children from other Southampton schools. Every day a coach took us somewhere new for the children to experience the French language and culture. In the evenings after the children were in bed, the staff sat in the dining room and drank wine. We were allowed unlimited amounts completely free of charge. One day snails and frogs legs were on the menu for everyone to try. My imagination took over and I knew I would find the experience repugnant but I was told that I must not upset the waiter. I had some put on my plate and when the waiter wasn't looking wrapped them up in tissue and threw them out the window. I then had to make gestures to the waiter about how delicious they were. Before I could say no, he put more on my plate and when no one was looking I had to do the same again. On Bastille Day there was a big party at the school and after the children had finished their celebration and had gone to bed, the staff were dancing and drinking and making merry. It wasn't long before I was slightly intoxicated and remember opening doors and seeing sights that I wasn't supposed to see and didn't expect to see. I think I must have been very naive in this area. I can't remember who was managing the children but nothing too serious happened.

Once a year we had a school fête and each class had to do something towards raising some funds for the school. One year my class sold gas-filled balloons and had a competition to see which one travelled furthest. Another year we sold ice cream and one year we made ginger beer, bottled it and sold it. I think it must have been slightly alcoholic as some of the children who bought it and drank it straight away was behaving stupidly all afternoon.

One year the Head was moving house and had stored some of his processions in his office ready for his new house. Members of the PTA thought they were for the fête and they were put on sale. Many were bought. When the Head discovered what had been done he had to rush round in a panic and try to buy them back from the parents. I'm not sure what the outcome was but I hope he got most of them back.

Every class once each term had to do an assembly when the whole school assembled in the hall They were sometimes on a theme or they could be connected with any subject. They would always be finished by a hymn and a prayer and last about twenty minutes. The hall had a stage with space underneath where equipment was kept. One day while the whole school including teachers were watching an assembly, the children opened the doors to the under-stage store to get something. Suddenly a tramp appeared from the door and quickly walked across the hall between the seated children, out of the hall door and left the school. Everyone thought it was part of the children's presentation and did not move. Later it was discovered that it had nothing to do with the assembly and the tramp had been living beneath the stage for how long, nobody knew.

By April 1984 Jean was heavily pregnant and almost ready to go into labour. We were at Gurnard in Shore Road when she started having pains. Quickly we returned home collected her already packed case and I took her to St. Mary's hospital where she was admitted. I returned home with Duncan and Richard. That night I was told to come back to the labour ward and entered just as the baby was born. His name was Stuart James Johnson. When I knew everything was well I went home to look after Duncan and Richard. The next day I remember taking a big bunch of flowers into the ward for Jean. Soon she was out of the hospital and looking after the new born baby and the other two boys were helping as much as they could.

During the early 1980s teaching children and working in school was a pleasure. Everything was positive and there was a great atmosphere amongst the children, parents and staff. Parents were very appreciative of how you were trying to help their children and gave you a great deal of support. These were the golden years of education but it was about to change.

Margaret Thatcher and the Conservative had come to power in 1979 and they were re-elected in 1984. They were in a powerful position to change everything in the country. This they did and introduced the American system of working which turned the work place into a competitive arena, turning friends into enemies. They had decided that they were going to change education and introduce a National Curriculum. We were all given about a dozen manuals which we were supposed to apply to our teaching. It was a nightmare as in the middle school we taught every subject and these manuals were written by so-called experts who didn't teach children. There were also Key Stages and levels dictating what the children should be learning. Tests called SATs were introduced whereby the children would be tested to see what they had achieved. They also introduced a Parents Charter at the same time giving parents more power as well as conducting a media campaign against the teaching profession. Teachers were now going to be accessed and appraised by observation, to get rid of the `dead wood` in the system and schools were going to be inspected by Ofsted. All these changes were introduced at such speed that it was difficult to cope. The job suddenly became very stressful and worrying and was full of negativity. Many good hard working respected teachers left the profession and a great many younger teachers wished they could get out. What they had believed in when they trained to become teachers, no longer applied. Children were no longer going to get a good all-round education but were now going to be trained to pass the SAT tests. One of the first things I noticed were parents in the play ground looking at their watches to make sure the whistle for the end of playtime was blown on time. If it was a little late they would make complaints. Most teachers and Heads hoped if a Labour Government was elected at the next election they would change things for the better. The Conservatives stayed in power for about fourteen years and when a Labour Government was eventually elected they had become more right-wing and the changes continued.

The 1973 VW Camper. 

In 1985 I had been thinking about buying a camper for some time. I thought it would be great if we as a family could go out for days and holidays in the camper. I began to look around at the ones for sale. After viewing two or three vehicles we went to see one at Apse Heath. It had once been a VW delivery van and had been converted into a camper by the present owner. His wife was expecting a child and he had become more interested in boats, so had decided to put the camper up for sale. We liked it and it seemed just what we were looking for. I took it for a check over to a local garage and then purchased it for £1200. It was a 1973 1600 air-cooled model, twelve years old and needed much attention to keep it in reasonable condition. I spent much time preserving it by waxing and oiling the underneath and generally touching the body up with paint. There wasn't much storage space inside so I decided to build a high top out of plywood. This was fixed to the roof with roof rack clips. It not only gave me room for luggage but it was possible to sleep up there as well. The camper was very useful in taking the whole family including the dog out for days and using it as a base to cook and make tea and coffee. Gurnard right next to the sea was a favourite place and I could even get hot water from the toilet sink nearby. The children liked going out and about in the vehicle. We camped in London at Crystal Palace and went abroad to the Vendee region of France for a week in it. On our way driving through France, we were horrified to discover that we had left all Duncan`s diabetic medication on the cross channel ferry. Jean rang ahead to the campsite where we were booked and when we arrived we saw a doctor who provided Duncan with everything he needed for the time in France. Also, the ferry company returned Duncan`s medical supplies to us. So the outcome was very satisfactory. The camper became very much a part of the family and I enjoyed tinkering with it

My daily travelling to the mainland continued on the vehicle ferry. I had got friendly with another man called Graham Leah who taught children in a special School at Fareham. I think it was called Heathfield. He was very keen to run a school trip on a canal boat with ten of his children. I was also very keen to give my class first-hand experiences. I believed it was very important as many of the pupils did few activities at home and many of their concepts were underdeveloped. I suggested to Graham we go together, my class on one boat and his children on the other. When I told my Head of my proposal he looked worried but agreed that I could go. So together Graham and I started organising the educational holiday. It was no problem getting together ten children from the class. The parents were only too happy to send their children away for a week and pay the cost. My colleague, Mrs Jackson agreed to be the other adult on board, but a week before departure my Head got the jitters about safety and put Graham from the other school in charge by giving him all our money and food. This was in case anything happened, it would be the other school's responsibility. He did this without any consultation.

We borrowed a minibus from the local High School and together with a bus from the other school drove to Coventry, reaching the boatyard where the Club Class narrowboats were based. Graham had more experience than me on the canal so made himself the leader and as he had all our money we had to follow him. He wanted to do a circuit or ring and needed steady progress each day. After settling in and loading the boats, we left the boatyard in convoy, Heathfield School's in front and Wimpson`s boat behind. It is funny how people can behave when they are in charge and in a different environment

Very quickly Graham turned into a Captain Bligh. (Captain Bligh was a hard sea captain in the book/film Mutiny on the Bounty)  He told my colleague she wasn`t pulling her weight at the locks and the first night when we were moored he complained our children were too noisy and disturbing his children. To compound this the next day we couldn`t keep up with their boat because our engine kept overheating and we had to stop several times to top up with water from a container we had on board. Soon there was an atmosphere between the two boats with their children pulling faces and hating our children and vice-versa. Also, my colleague was angry at Graham because he had said she was not pulling her weight and she wouldn`t talk to the lady helper on the other boat. Although we talked about splitting up we couldn't as the Heathfield boat had our money and supplies. As the week progressed there was politeness between us at the locks which the children operated, but one day as we were underway we were close to the other boat`s stern and I decided to overtake and be in front just for once. Graham was listening to his music disc so didn`t hear our boat, but when Graham realised what I was doing his ego took over and he tried to stop us getting in front by speeding up. Unfortunately, his bow clipped our stern and he lost steerage and his 65-foot boat became stuck across the canal blocking the waterway. Our children started laughing and waving to them as we pulled away. There was no sense of humour on their boat as later they pulled in behind us after we had moored up. Graham came along threatening to punch me on the nose in front of the children and demanding to come aboard my boat. I blocked the gang plank as Skipper and told him he was not welcome aboard and refused him admittance. He walked away and later returned and apologised for his outburst. After this episode, the atmosphere was more relaxed and we finished the week together still speaking. The children had enjoyed the experience very much and talked about it for ages afterwards.

I think the photograph of Crane was from our second 1987
canal trip. This boat is still being hired out in 2018

Life travelling to and from work every day was tedious and made me very tired. At the end of the week I was often shattered and sometimes on a Saturday felt almost suicidal and just could not get on with anything. I was often bad-tempered just sat around often in the garage. No one really understood how I felt and the children kept away from me. I often thought about how really wonderful was my relaxing life on the Isle of Wight. I don`t think.

By Sunday I felt better and played tennis in the morning and wanted to go out somewhere in the afternoon. Jean never wanted to go anywhere so I would take the children out, but this sometimes never materialised as Jean wanted to keep them in the house and garden.

Anyway, I had thirteen week’s holiday a year so I coped with travelling but looked forward to the holidays. At the start of nearly every break,, I suffered with what teachers called `end of term itus` for a few days. I never seemed to be able to avoid it no matter how I tried.

Life went on and the children got older. It was a magical time because I was important to them. They had affection for me and followed my advice and it was wonderful to watch them grow up... In 1984 Stuart Johnson was born then later Alison Johnson was born in 1987. I now had four children which were more than I planned, but Jean and I never really discussed anything because talking to each other was difficult, because she didn`t really hold me in high esteem, unlike the milkman, postman and staff at the local school where she had become a Governor. That`s how it seemed to me anyway...

I continued to work in Southampton but could never really look for any promotion. There wasn`t much available and I could never really excel in my job in any way because I could not really put extra effort into my job because I was always chasing ferries instead of running clubs and attending evening events. I could never really get noticed for extracurricular activities. I did try to run trips maybe once a year. After the canal journey in 1985 the next year I took children to the Isle of Wight in the minibus and the children camped in the pony club field at Whippingham near where I lived. Mr Whatley who was Duncan`s Sea Scout leader erected the tents for us. I paid a local lady to come and cook our evening meal and make sandwiches for the next day. Each day we did different activities and visited places like Robin Hill and Black Gang Chine.  I also took the little wooden boat called `Wimp` which had been built in the classroom. We tried it out at the Folly Inn where I took the children for a row on the river. The trip was very successful and I even had some money left over that I returned to school funds.

In 1987 I did another week on the canal which was successful except one of the girls fell in the water. Luckily she had a life jacket on but had to be dragged out and given a hot shower. In 1988 I took the children to Dartmoor where we stayed in an isolated cottage where a Mr Eagle was the warden. He told the children ghost stories which scared the children to death. I took my Red Setter Isla and travelled by mini-bus. Mr G the head saw me put the dog in the van on leaving and said nothing...When I returned a week later he told me off and said he had been worried all week that the dog might have caused an accident... He had taken no contact details when we had left and mobile phones did not exist for ordinary people.

Things were beginning to tighten up on educational trips. There had been several accidents where school children had been lost and the media were asking questions about safety. The rules were changing and teachers had to go on courses to run trips and extra paperwork had to be completed and a detailed risk assessment carried out. So trips stopped for a while so this was the last time I took children away.

Suddenly teaching Unit children separately was considered not to be right. The latest research had shown we had been led to believe that Unit children should be integrated with mainstream children. This was to be done by employing teaching assistants who would give extra help in a normal class. So small classes and a special curriculum was no longer considered to be beneficial. It seemed my philosophy which had always been considered good was no longer and these struggling pupils would now concentrate on completing worksheets, had to have French lessons and receive a normal education with extra help.  Most teachers whispered it was just to save money and would not help the children in any way.

This didn`t happen straight away. I was given a classroom assistant and continued with my small unit class. The assistance I was given was in my eyes unsuitable as she caused me more problems than she solved. I was IT consultant in the school. There was one BBC computer per class but they were always giving trouble and I was often sent for. The assistant was in my class helping the children and they were working quietly so I would pop out and fix a computer. On returning they were fine. After a month one day, the assistant raised her skirt and above her knees, she was covered with bruises. I was shocked and she told me that when I left the class to sort a computer out some of the boys set on her and beat her up and this had happened on a regular basis. She told the Head and I got into trouble for leaving the classroom. I never believed her and thought she was attention-seeking, such was the quality of the staff we were offered.

It seemed the powers that be wanted to close the school. It was built for 500 children and there were only about 140 pupils attending the school. The behaviour of some of the pupils had deteriorated and some parents had sent their children to other schools because of this poor behaviour. It seemed it was the Head who took the blame. He had never implemented the National Curriculum properly and expected it to go away with a change of government. He had never filled in the logbook that should have been completed every day and had been since 1952 when the school opened. I think he was just waiting to retire anyway, the inspectors moved in and spent a week interviewing staff and inspecting lessons. I was criticised for using 19th-century methods because she walked through the class and I had the children very quiet with their heads on their tables, calming down after coming back after a lunch break. I do think they were trying to find as many faults as they could to have the school closed.

The result was the Headmaster went off sick and never came back. He did try but only lasted one morning. The rest of us tried to improve the school with a new acting Head. We, teachers, worked very hard. I had to teach a mainstream class, write a policy for IT and feel miserable all the time. I just didn`t want to do this job any more. Everything I believed in had changed and it was now an unhappy school. After nearly a year of hard work, the news came the school would close. They were getting rid of Middle Schools and creating Junior schools, in other words going back to the old two-tier system. 

The personnel lady came into school and interviewed every employee about their future. Wages were being ring-fenced and we could be redeployed anywhere in Hampshire. I explained to the personnel officer that I commuted from the Isle of Wight and was tired of doing it and finding it a big problem. She told me that she would have to shed teachers at the changeover and if I could get the support of my doctor I would get pensioned off with six years enhancement and a redundancy payment. I would have to go off sick before the end of term, and then claim to be too stressed to carry on teaching.

I hated the thought of approaching my doctor and asking for support, but eventually went to see doctor G and explained the situation. He understood and offered me support and before the end of the term he signed me off sick. I wrote my reports sent them to the school and never went back to the school I had worked there for eighteen years. I felt very sad that my career had finished in such a strange way. I was 48 years old... I felt it had just happened to me but it had happened to so many teachers. They were not dead wood but very experienced, but tired of change. However, education had changed and many teachers found it difficult to adapt or didn`t want to.

I began having a year off work of any kind and received my teacher’s pension and sickness pay. So financially I was better off than I anticipated. It was great not having to travel or teach, but I did feel a little sad and realised I wasn`t as important as I thought. After six months I began thinking I ought to try and do something else. I applied for a few jobs with little success. I thought I ought to train for something as the job centre was offering training opportunities. My doctor wanted to sign me off sickness benefit. Jean had just had her windows replaced with UPVC ones by a firm called Pretty Windows. The proprietor Keith Johnson wanted to give me a game of tennis. We eventually met up and he surprised me how well he could play, although he didn`t beat me. We played a few more times then he offered me a training position in his firm. I eventually agreed and I started off in the office. I found it so boring but got used to it. I became a salesperson and drove to different people’s houses, measured up and gave them written quotes.

I started doing quite well but Keith was the master salesman and at the end of the month he had always sold more. I think he always gave me the less certain leads, or he always had to win. I began to realise Keith wasn`t going to offer me a proper job until he had to. He had my training extended several times. It began to dawn on me that I was being taken advantage of and ripped off by Keith. However Keith was a charmer and even although he took advantage of everyone, you couldn`t help liking him.

I did enjoy working at Pretty Windows, although I worked long hours it was nowhere near as tiring as teaching. Eventually, Keith had to offer me a proper job and I received a basic wage and a little commission. I was managing on my teacher’s pension and my wage quite well and it allayed my fears about leaving my job and not being able to manage. It was just so pleasant not having to travel on the ferry every day...

In 1996 Jean went for a routine mammogram screening. The result was positive, although there was no evidence of a lump. She had to enter the hospital to have an operation, followed by radiotherapy and chemotherapy. She lost her hair and made her miserable because she thought she didn`t match the criteria for breast cancer. 

In 1997 I decided to take my youngest son, Stuart to Thailand to visit my oldest son, Duncan.... Duncan was working, teaching English at the British American language School in Bangkok.  We flew by  Olympic  Airways, first to Athens then to Thailand and spent 5 weeks there. It was a great experience to stay in an Asian country in the warmth and sunshine. Everything was so different. The people seem happy and friendly but are poor. Not like home where if you are on your own you remain on your own as people are less friendly. I found out you have to be very careful with taxi drivers who try very hard to rip you off.

Unfortunately Jean could not come to terms with her illness. Sometimes she didn`t feel too well and she thought it was her cancer returning. It wasn`t this at all but it was discovered she was very low on the hormone thyroxin. I took her to see the consultant doctor who prescribed some replacement medicine.  She still wasn`t happy so I bought her a brand new car because she always wanted one.

In 1999 I decided I would do supply teaching on the Isle of Wight. I put myself on the list and soon started to be called in. I coped quite well and in some schools became a favourite and was called in on a regular basis. I got back into the swing of things again and only worked at Pretty Windows when I had no supply teaching. Also, a friend and I had been writing a booklet for the two main ferry companies For Red Funnel the booklet was called `Cruise Across the Solent` and for Wightlink `Ferry to the Island` They both sold very well at first, but when the catering franchise was sold off by Red Funnel it was hopeless trying to communicate with the catering department who just did not listen. Wightlink Just kept placing a new order with the printers despite us explaining that they should approach us. In the end, we just gave up as it was impossible to make the people we spoke to on the telephone understand about ordering the booklets.

In 2001 or thereabouts I got a teaching job at a primary school in Ryde for one day per week. I met an a lady. We became good friends and I found her wonderful. She liked me too and soon we were making plans. I had never met someone who was so compatible. I left home and lived in my camper then later on my boat. I thought we were going to rent a place and move in together. That`s what we planned. We remained good friends but I gradually understood that she was not going to leave her home to be with me. They say it`s always a lady's prerogative to change her mind and she did.

 In 2003 I decided to buy a house and found one in Newport, but it was tired with lots to do. I gradually prepared it for lodgers and myself. It took several years and I had an extension built. Eventually, it was ready and I lived downstairs and I started to have lodgers. I had a lot to learn about letting. There is definitely an owner-occupier and tenant mentally totally opposite. I found it so easy to find lodgers, but so difficult to find people who were sincere and true to their word.  I had several bad experiences. Eventually, I learned to find people who were suitable and would pay their rent on time and keep the place clean.  

I remained good friends with my favourite lady but met a girl from Eastern Europe. I got on very well with her and offered her accommodation with me. She lived with me for three years, but east and west have different ideas about friendships and she expected marriage. I drove her to her home village in Romania about six times and met her family. One year I cycled to the Black Sea. It took just under six weeks and was a wonderful experience. I also cycled to Barcelona, it took a week but after arriving I got robbed and returned to the UK by plane. These two adventures I`ve described in separate blogs. The previous lady who I had remained friends with would contact me and her texts were discovered and I just could not stop her or wanted to stop her from contacting me. Eventually, it spoilt my relationship with the Romanian girl and she left me. As soon as this happened my favourite lady decided to terminate our relationship so I was completely on my own again. I realised how foolish I had been and how you can`t be good friends with two ladies at the same time. They won`t accept it and it caused me great stress.   

My supply teaching went on for some time and I managed to pay off the mortgage I had taken out on the house over a 20 year period in 5 years. I did this by being very careful with money.

 The Isle of Wight decided to go back to the two-tier education system and get rid of Middle Schools. This had happened to my teaching job in Southampton some years before and I was made redundant.  I decided to retire from teaching at this stage as supply teaching was getting more difficult to get and the unqualified helpers in school were now allowed to cover classes if the teacher was away. This change made me retire and in addition, every school was trying to save money so avoided calling in supply teachers. This happened in 2013

My Children      (Duncan, Richard, Stuart, Alison) 4

Daughter/Son in law       (Sarah, Rebecca, Christian, Eli ) 4

and Grandchildren        (Chloe, Milo, Fleur, Ada, Eve, James, Owen, Lilly)  8

)

Ada. David, Lilly & Eve

Fleur and Milo

James

Christian

Owen & Alison

October 2022

 

I went on a dating site called plenty of Fish. It took a long time to meet anybody and I was getting fed up. Suddenly I had a wink from this lady who I sent a message to. She lived at East Cowes, about 5 miles away. I was invited for coffee and went along to see her, She was very friendly and soon I had moved in with her. I was determined to pay my way and started paying her rent and trying to help her. She was short of money to run the house so I suggested she did Airbnb and she started having guests. This was very successful and her monthly income meant she could keep her head above water. Everything was going well, but unfortunately, she was very jealous about other ladies. She considered an affair was happening if you had a coffee or cycled with a female. I lived with her for over six years and things were going well. She did not like the Isle of Wight much and she had two sons living on the mainland who wanted her back on the mainland. 

Cars/ Motorcycles that I`ve bought in my lifetime

This was my first vehicle. All I wanted was a motorcycle.

It`s a BSA C12 built in 1956 but I bought it in 1963 for 40

 pounds as 16  years old. I did not know much about 

motorcycles but was convinced it was overheating.

 I had read too many motorcycle mechanics magazines

 I remember riding it to Lulworth Cove and other places,

 later skidding into a ditch in the severe winter of 1962/63.

 I remember being very interested in motorcycles and wanted

 a 250cc model and ordered it from a company in London without

 seeing it. A big mistake. In those days you could ride a 250cc

 and display L plates. I made a saddle cover for it in the

 sanatorium when I was ill, but when I came out of the hospital 

 in January 1964 sold the bike for 8 pounds, as I was only interested in driving

a car.

This was the first car. Morris 1000 Traveller that my mother
bought in 1960. We lived in Putney, It was a 1958 model. I was 14 years old
George passed his test. After coming out of  the sanatorium in 1964
I was 17 years of age. So I started driving it. I used to drive my mother and 
George around Dorset with L plates for driving experience.
I took 4 lessons at 19/-6 each and passed the driving test first time in
 Bournemouth. I would drive this car until my mother decided to buy a
 Vauxhall Viva later in 1964

In the summer of 1964 my mother traded the Morris
1000 Traveller in and bought a Vauxhall Viva. It 
looked very smart but I never liked driving it. I never
 thought it`s road holding was that good.
 I remember driving to Cornwall for a holiday with
Peter Riddell and going to London in it, but I really wanted
a mini as they were all the rage at that time.

My mother bought the Austin Mini Super Delux in September 1964
after trading in the Viva. I liked driving it very much. It cost 509 pounds new. It was 
a new concept in cars and had front wheel drive. I drove it
until 1974 when the gearbox failed and it had done about 90,000 miles

 1985 I bought a VW camper from a man who lived Apse Heath on
the IoW. I built a high top for it out of plywood. The idea was to
 go out for days and have holidays. It was successful and I kept it
for 29 years. When the children were young we often spent days
at Gurnard by the sea. Twice I went abroad in it.

In 1974 we bought a mini traveller from an address in Ryde.
We went to many places in it and Jean used in for work. By 1985
it had so many problems we traded it in and bought a Fiesta.

I bought a Ford Fiesta in 1985 from a garage in
East Cowes, It felt very modern and nice to drive. 
My son Duncan passed his test and was
allowed to drive it. He wrote the Fiesta off outside 
Butterfly World with Alison in the car when a van pulled out
 in front of him. He had to go to court as the police wanted to prosecute the
 driver of the minibus. Duncan won the case
against the van driver.

We bought an Austin Metro after the Fiesta was
written off. It was quite a nice cat to drive. 

A fiat 126....
Richard wanted a Fiat126. It was a problem car right from the start.
I was always working on it. We  ended up in
court over a dispute with a garage over a bill. We won and eventually 
Richard wanted a more conventional car. I finished up
using it until it broke down and that was the end.

Jean wanted a Renult Clio. She had been ill with
breast cancer so I bought her a new Clio which she kept for two years
and it did about16000 miles before it was traded in.

I bought this car in 2022 to replace the Hyundai which had
gone wrong, It was a diesel but only 1.5 litre. Twice so far it has
taken us to Spain and only 20 pounds in road tax is taken each year.
As the years go by cars get better and more reliable.

Hyundai Elantra which I bought in 2008. It was a
diesel and cost 3000 pounds. I drove it to Romania about 6 times.
It never broke down and was a great car. I`ve never had a diesel

before but I was impressed

My children in chronological order of age

 I was very proud of all my children. They all had jobs, houses and good manners. None of them were on welfare, smoked or drank too much alcohole. 


Duncan Johnson my eldest son lived in South Africa and is 52 year old.  He had developed diabetes at three years old. He was a great person and did many things and travelled widely. He was very good at racket skills and could beat any family member at tennis, table tennis, badmington and squash. I reluctantly bought him a motorcycle and then had years of worry. However he was a good rider and finished up riding ihe motorcycle to South Africa. He stayed there and opened a business called `African Overlanders` It catered for people driving from Europe to South Africa. Later he expanded the business to store vehicles, mainly 4x4s, then sending pre 1972 vehicles to the UK for restoration and later selling vehicles for safari then buying them back.

He had a very efficient partner called Eli and a child called Chloe and he catered for them. Eli was Spanish and helped him run the business and Chloe liked sailing and horse riding. She was introduced to various activates by Eli. Not like many girls who maybe only get introduced to shopping and ballet. 

Before he went to Africa he worked in London and lived on a canal boat. He has been to college and was working in IT and earning good money. He didn`t like the job and desired to go to Africa which he did, by motor bike and set up a business called `African Overlanders` which was successful. He has indicated he could never return to the UK because it`s too grey and cold.

My second son was Richard Johnson who was born in 1980 and is 43.  He was a lovely child and ideal son. He worked hard in school and was always keen in coming top in spelling tests at Whippingham Primany School. He always got good results in school but would not except a reward. His sport was rowing and he competed at Henley in the famous regatta. His mother wanted him to become a vet and he tried hard to get on a vet course in Vetinary Sciense but was unsuccessful. It seemed to us that the courses were only open to parents with money or parents in the medical business or ex public school pupils.  Richard would have made an excellent vet  but became a school teacher in several private schools teaching mainly Chemistry. Richard was intelligent and very family orintated and eventually went to the mainland, got married to Sarah and lived in Blandford Forum. They had three children all girls. They visited the Isle of Wight regularly and was always interested in keeping the family close. Richard was not judgemental and great to talk to. He was very political correct and so I had to be careful what I said. He often I forgot I was brought up in a different era.


Stuart Johnson was born in 1984 and was 36. He was a happy contented child, always happy and smiling and loved his parents and his brothers. He was very family orintated and loved to be shown how to do things and go places. He spent a lot of time with me and loved to go out in the camper, visit the boat on the River Medina and his family meant a lot to him. As he grew up he became a rower and would go to regattas on the mainland. He became an ideal boy and eventually did Sports Science at University and became a teacher and got a teaching job at Sandown, mainly teaching PE. He got married to Rebecca and had the reception at Osborne House then bought a house in Seaview which was later extended and they did some Airbnb. They had two children and bought a camper and Stuart did all the things with his children that he did when he was young. 

My daughter, Alison was born later and she was a very quiet girl but very clever. She liked the Isle of Wight, especially East Cowes where she now lives. Not far from the house she was brought up in. Against all odds she went to University to study Real Estate in Bristol and was quite happy. Once she had her degree she decided on a Masters in the same subject which she got. She was all set to train as a surveyor, but she didn`t want to leave the Island so she got a job in Newport, first with Island Roads then with a firm of surveyors. She met Christian and they bought a house together in East Cowes. She now has two children James and Owen, and she works part time while the children are young. James is a bit of a handful, but I hope he calms down in time to come. Alison has a good relationship with her mother and spends time with her. She doesn`t want to get married and can`t see the point.

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