When the Growing Gets Tough: An Autobiography

By D.H. Coxall

Many books have been written of what it was like growing up in east London during the forties, fifties and sixties but the authenticity of this latest east London book is at its best, it tells of what it was like being born into a large family of four brothers, a sister, two half brothers and five half sisters sleeping five to a bed, regular trips to the Pawn Shop on rent day, living on stews, bread pudding and coconut cake, its a roller coast ride of family life, of love, hate, jealousy and tears.

Credits to Vestry house museum London borough of Waltham forest for allowing photographs to be in the book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Nov 8, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491880333

Book preview

When The Growing Gets Tough

An Autobiography

D.H. Coxall

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AuthorHouse™ UK Ltd.

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Bloomington, IN 47403 USA

www.authorhouse.co.uk

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© 2013 by D.H. Coxall. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 11/06/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4918-8031-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-8030-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-8033-3 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Credits to Vestry House Museum in the London borough of Waltham Forest for allowing photographs to be used.

Contents

Introduction

1       Ron’s Memories

2       Rainy Days & Cold Nights

3       Changing Rooms

4       The Hole In The Wall

5       There’s Something Fishy Going On in the Scullery

6       The Thumb, The Foot & The Whitlow

7       A Merry Christmas

8       Bread Pudding, Coconut Cake & A Dumpling Stew

9       Making Ends Meet

10       Dad’s Armchair

11       Glasses of Lemonade & Arrowroot Biscuits

12       After All’s Said And Done

13       Home From Home

14       My Mate Dave

15       Corn Flakes And Other Names

16       Locked In The Cinema With Oliver

17       Sorry Mum

18       The Three Stooges

19       An Accident Waiting to Happen

20       The Rogues Gallery

21       Besotted

22       Thanks Jim

23       Settled At Last

24       Jenny

25       Janet

26       Sandra

27       Brenda

28       The Sixties

29       Lust Or Love

30       A Nightmare In Jersey

31       Pay As You Go

32       Monte Carlo Or Bust

33       Denicks Florist, Snack Bar And The Night Of The Flangle Dangle

34       Gone, But Not Forgotten

35       Goodbye Dad

36       Goodbye Mum

37       My New Family

Aknowledgement

Synopsis

Many books have been written of what it was like growing up in east London during the forties, fifties and sixties but the authenticity of this latest east London book is at its best, it tells of what it was like being born into a large family of four brothers, a sister, two half brothers and five half sisters sleeping five to a bed, regular trips to the Pawn Shop on rent day, living on stews, bread pudding and coconut cake, it’s a roller coast ride of family life, of love, hate, jealousy and tears.

Introduction

I was just a month away from my 65 th birthday and the thought of retirement I found very disconcerting. I had been active most of my life, so house slippers and a cosy armchair was not how I saw myself.

My wife Carol suggested writing a book,

"write your memoirs, she said, that’ll keep you busy for a while."

"Me? Write a book? I chuckled, I can’t even write a letter, so how on Earth do you expect me to write a book?"

I quickly put that idea to bed and it was not mentioned again until later that year when I re-gathered my thoughts and decided to take up the challenge and give it a go. I sat down and prepared myself for a long journey ahead and whilst reminiscing through the years, I realised for the first time what a mixed bag of emotions life can be. Love, hate, jealousy, happiness and tears, I experienced each and every one of these emotions whilst reliving my life.

Growing up in East London in the forties and fifties have often been quoted by the older generation as the good old days. Large families, living in poor conditions with little money certainly was tough but were they the good old days? Were they really happy? That is when I decided to go back as far as my memory would take me and try to find an answer. But where do I begin? How do I begin?

After the first few days of struggling with words and memories, I managed to complete a couple of pages by introducing my family, which was not easy I can assure you.

There were four brothers, one sister, two half brothers and five half sisters. When it was first explained to me ‘who was who’ in the family, I found the whole situation very confusing. Eventually, in time, I finally managed to understand the complexity of it all.

My mother, Kathleen Charlotte, better known as Kit or Kate, had a hard and stressful life. She was born on August 2nd 1902 and lived with her parents George and Emily (my grandparents), along with her four elder sisters Maud, Emily, Harriet and Winifred and their brother John in Quicket Street, Bow, in the East End of London.

My Grandmother on Mums side, in 1908, at the age of 37, had an illegal abortion and suffered a terrible death. Soon after losing their mother, mum and her brother John, being the youngest, were sent to an orphanage in Devon, while their four elder sisters remained with their father at home. The convent orphanage was notoriously known for being a miserable place. The nuns were strict and known to hand out severe punishment for any kind of bad behaviour. In 1912, after four years away from home my mother and her brother, were once again reunited with their father and sisters.

My father Henry, better known as Harry, was born on 19th September 1894 in Plaistow, East London. He lived with his mother, Eliza and two elder brothers Alfred and James in an upstairs terraced house in Plaistow, his father, unknown.

They were well known hawkers in the area, selling paper flowers that their mother made out of crepe paper, wire and dye. Apparently she was very clever in making these flowers and dad inherited this talent and later became as good or even better in making them.

The situation for them, like many other families of that era, became very desperate. In 1901, dad’s two older brothers were sent to a young offenders prison for stealing food apparently. Dad, at the age of seven, was sent to the workhouse in Leytonstone, today the site of a Tesco megastore. He was later moved to another orphanage in Surrey, where he spent most of his young life. The whole family situation became even worse, when dad’s brother Alfred became a father of twins Harry and Harriet, Eliza took in and looked after the babies but sadly they died later of malnutrition. In 1912 he enlisted in the royal army Corps and later went on to fight for King and Country in the 1914-18 war.

When the war had ended he came out the same way as he went in-penniless! But they did reward him for his efforts. They gave him a few minor injuries, some scars and a couple of medals. It was the governments way of saying thank you. After leaving the army, he was reunited with his mother and two brothers at number 34 Cullum Street, Stratford, East London. Whilst living there, his brother Alfred was suddenly taken ill with bronchitis and sadly died at the age of thirty four.

When mum met dad, they already had children from previous marriages. Mum with three, John, Winnie and Maud and dad with four, Bella, Nellie, Billy and Maud. Two of dad’s children, Billy (3 months) and Maud (18 months), went to live with them at number 34 Cullum Street, Stratford, East London along with dad’s mother Eliza. Their other children remained with their previous partners, Arthur and Britannia, who incidentally, lived together in Leytonstone.

Mum gave birth to four more children while living in Cullum Street, Ron 1932, followed by Jimmy 1933, Terry 1936 and my sister Eileen 1937. Shortly after Eileen was born, they moved to Oxford Road Stratford, then to a three bedroom house in South Birbeck Road Leytonstone and finally to a four bedroom house at number 33 Holloway Road Leytonstone. The extra room enabled my sister Bella and her husband Bill, better known as Knobby, to occupy the top floor until they could find a place of their own. I was born at this address on 24th January 1942 and two years later almost to the day, Derek arrived on 22nd January 1944, the last in the family.

I have no memory of number 33, for Just after Derek was born, a shop opposite at number 18 became vacant. Dad thought it a good idea to open the shop as a florist selling artificial flowers, but sadly it was never a success. There might have been the odd customer here and there or a pub that might have wanted something to display on the bar, but nothing more, so up rooting the family and moving from a large house to a run down shop with only three bedrooms, wasn’t such a good idea. Mum told me many years later that it was the worst move she’d ever made. She worked hard to make it homely and comfortable, but that was to be easier said than done. The shop, as we called it, was to be our home for the next twenty years.

I hardly got to know any of my sisters. By the time Derek and I were born, they were either married or living away from home. Bella moved to a three bedroomed house in Stratford, East London. I have vague memories of my visits there and seeing my two nephews Terry and Michael and my neice Patricia. Incidentally, Terry and Michael were both born in the same year as Derek and I, 1942-44. It seems strange having nephews the same age and to be known as uncle Dennis and uncle Derek seemed even stranger. Patricia was born in 1950, but sadly in 1954 when I was just 12 years old, they emigrated to Canada.

Bella was a headstrong lady with a fiery temper and with a mind of her own, you couldn’t bully her, you had no chance, if she thought she was right, you had to agree. But she loved us all, whatever side of the family we were from. You would never dare upset her or her family as one of the neighbours was to discover. This incident happened just before she emigrated to Canada. Bella and mum happened to be walking past a couple of neighbours who were doorstep gossiping, mum overheard one of them saying some nasty things about the family;

"WHAT WAS THAT YOU SAID?" mum yelled.

"you erd," she replied "you wanna stay home more and look after yer kids."

She knew mum had to work five days a week and sometimes weekends for the extra money, "right." Mum was just about to storm after this woman when Bella intervened;

"leave this to me," Bella told her.

She pushed mum to one side and with no more ado, she clumped this woman so hard that she fell back on to her doorstep and just sat there with this fat lip, no arguments, straight in.

That’ll teach yer to keep yer mouth shut you two faced cow.

After this smack in the mouth, this loud mouthed woman was never nowhere to be seen when Bella was around.

My sister Winnie, I met just the once. She married an American soldier who was based in England during the war and went to live in America.

We had two Mauds’ in the family, Big Maud (mum’s daughter) and small Maud (dad’s daughter) and there was Helen, better known as Nellie, why she was known by that name I really don’t know, I never bothered to ask as the whole situation was bad enough, I didn’t want to add to the confusion. My half brother John (my mother’s son) I hardly knew, it was only on such rare occasions that I did get to see him.

Lastly, there was Eileen, the youngest of the girls and the one daughter mum and dad had together. At just four years my elder she would have been the one sister I would have loved to have grown up with, but sadly she passed away in 1945 at the very young age of just seven. Different members of the family have spoken about her with love and affection and I have listened. I dearly would have loved to have known her and written something down in my own words, but sadly I have no memories of Eileen.

When I first mentioned to my brother Ron that I was writing my memoirs, I asked if he would write something for me on his memories of Eileen and what it was like to be evacuated in the dark days of World War Two. He eagerly agreed and the next chapter is what he wrote.

1

Ron’s Memories

I n 1938 the threat of war was at its highest and the government took the precautionary steps by planning on a large scale to evacuate children to different parts of the country for safety. They feared that London and the surrounding areas would be Germany’s first target, but it wasn’t until the following year in August 1939 that their plans were put together.

My brothers Bill, aged 10, Jimmy aged 6 and myself aged 7, were just three of the many hundreds of children that were to be evacuated. Mum explained the best way she could, what it meant and how much safer it would be by going, she told us that it wouldn’t be for long and no more was said on the matter.

When the day arrived to go, mum took us to the departure point at one of the local schools in the area. On arrival, we were told by one of the officials to wait in the school playground with other parents and children. Mum was holding Eileen in her arms and at the same time she was trying to focus on us to make sure that we didn’t wander off, there was so much going on it would have been easily done.

Eileen was about eighteen months old and I remember vividly the white velvet corduroy jacket she was wearing and her tiny pink shoes and of her getting excited at the noise and activity that was going on around us.

Later we were asked to assemble in the middle of the playground for an official from the local council who was coming to talk to us. His speech, I remember, seemed to go on forever and we were beginning to get bored and restless. Everything he said was mainly addressed to the parents. When he finished talking, he demonstrated how to use our gas mask and we were asked to watch closely how to put them on. It became a comedy of errors! They were put on sideways, upwards, downwards, anyway but the right way. Everybody started roaring with laughter at how strange and funny they all looked.

I was beginning to get excited and I told Bill and Jimmy that I think war had started. Why else would we put on our gas masks. There were teachers from various schools arriving, carrying large cardboard boxes which contained sandwiches. These were handed out to us in brown paper bags and in each bag were two sandwiches, one jam and one cheese, plus an apple that we were to take with us on our journey. We then had labels pinned to our lapels with our names on, we looked more like refugees than evacuees.

A red double decker bus with its engine running, was waiting to take us to the station, it was time to go. The three of us clinging on to mum for dear life, We had no idea where we were going or what it was going to be like. The majority of us kids hadn’t even stepped outside our own manor.

As we stood waiting to board the bus, mum gave