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My Life from the Beginning
My Life from the Beginning
My Life from the Beginning
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My Life from the Beginning

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I was born on October 29, 1932, with a twin sister. We lived in a bungalow in West Molesey, Surrey. The bungalow went with the job and was rent-free.

My parents were William Herbert Prater and May Victoria Prater. We had a brother who was called William Albert Prater. He was born on February 19, 1931.

My mother was not at all pleased to have given birth to two babies and asked that one was taken away, which was, of course, ignored.

We were named Dorothy May and Violet Rose. My sister was born thirty minutes before me and was literarily thrown down and left to die. When my father came in from milking the cows, he wanted to know what all the fuss was about and ordered those in attendance to ignore the babies, which could be replaced, and to concentrate on his wife, who could not be.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateJul 6, 2016
ISBN9781524636883
My Life from the Beginning
Author

Violet Prater

Violet Prater was born in 1932 and worked in a variety of industries, including nursing. She is now in her mid-eighties and is retired.

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    My Life from the Beginning - Violet Prater

    2016 Violet Prater. 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 07/06/2016

    ISBN: 978-1-5246-3689-0 (sc)

    ISBN: 978-1-5246-3688-3 (e)

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

    and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

    Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

    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.

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    Author’s Note

    I am now 83-years-old and have decided to publish my story.

    I know that there are grammar and spelling errors but I wanted write the text without inference with an editor.

    These are my words and it is told just as I want it.

    I hope my story illustrates that child abuse can extend beyond beatings and sexuality.

    I

    was born on the 29th of October 1932 with a twin sister. We lived in a bungalow in West Moseley. Surrey. The bungalow went with the job and was rent free.

    My parents were William Herbert Prater and May Victoria Prater.

    We had a brother who was called William Albert Prater. He was born on February 19, 1931.

    My mother was not at all pleased to have given birth to 2 babies and asked that one was taken away which of course was ignored.

    We were named Dorothy May and Violet Rose, my sister was born 30 minutes before me and was literarily thrown down and left to be dead. When my father came in from milking the cows he wanted to know what all the fuss was about and ordered those in attendance to ignore the babies which could be replaced and concentrate on his wife who could not.

    Apparently my mother had suffered a traumatic time in labour with a doctor in attendance using forceps.

    Eventually attention was drawn to my sister who was found to have meningitis affecting the brain.

    From that moment on my sister became the apple of his eye and he had little or no time for me or his son. My sister soon became aware of this and in subsequent years when punishment was dished out (including the use of a buckled belt) she was not included although mine took place in the bedroom and she was present to appease my mother.

    My brother was always very bossy and took great delight in standing in for my father for clouting me considerably. Probably because my mother had told him to go and shut them kids up. I do not remember a lot of life in this bungalow because it was soon realised that the property was not big enough for 5 people and my father applied for a House with Esher council and was allocated a 2 bedroom council house in Esher I suspect that the rent was too high for 3 bedrooms.

    My brother clearly remembers us moving and a horse and cart carried us and all our belongings to Farm Road Esher(so named because there was a sewage farm at the end) A small shop was on the corner called Denhams and Mrs Denham, the owner gave us 3 children a glass of milk.

    Farm road lies at the bottom of a hill running along side Sandown park race course. There is a railway bridge which is part of the main, line from Waterloo to Portsmouth. Through this arch we find Farm road, Mill road and Douglas road.

    These 3 roads formed the roots of the area we grew up in.

    At the top of the hill is Esher high street, which is on the A3 road to Guildford, just off this road was Esher Church of England school for boys and girls and separating, these is a road called Church Street. And the Church is built between the school separated by Church Street

    In front of all these buildings lies a mass of grass known as Esher Green. This area was used extensively during the war for air raid shelters which were dug deep at the end and sides of the green probably more than a dozen of them. At the bottom of Sandown Park race course is a road called Lower green road which leads eventually to Esher Station.

    To get from farm road to any of these places was 1 mile walk; there were no buses until long after the war.

    The house in farm road was a 2 down and 2 up, very old fashioned and, downstairs was a kitchen which my mother called a scullery and a living room which my mother called a kitchen

    The scullery had a cold water tap over a sink, a bath, and an Electric cooker with a copper boiler in the corner for heating all the water in the scullery, obviously there was a tap above. Later the council put a wooden removable top to the bath.

    The two bedrooms up stairs were divided by a landing with a door to each room and a window which overlooked the front door porch. Over the fence was a large gap which divided number 26 from number 24.this was the entrance to a playing field and two sets of allotments. After the war this ground was built on and my brother had a flat there when he left the army.

    With only 2 bedrooms my brother had a single bed in our parents’ room which he occupied until he was old enough to join the Army soon after he left school.

    He had done better than either of us at school and the Headmaster was very keen for him to go on for further education but my father put his foot down and would not allow this. He was fourteen and had to earn his keep as far as my parents were concerned.

    My brother was also musically minded and could play anything by ear and badly wanted to have music lessons but again my father would not pay.

    As soon as he was old enough he went and signed on for the army, when he came home and told our parents my father said you can’t do that without my permission at which point he took his papers out of his pocket and thrust them under his nose to see and left the next day.

    My mother’s only comment was, You bring them up and just when they are old enough to do you some good they bugger off and leave you.

    Later in life he wrote and had published a book called The Flyleaf Killer which features life around the places in Esher.

    My father was one of 9 children all born in Woodley Reading I am not sure where he came in the line but there were 5 boys and 4 girls. Bert, Jim, are 2 of the boys I remember plus Nancy, Louie, and Ivy, the three aunts we saw most of.

    Bert was a prisoner of war in Japan during the war.

    His mother and father were both alive at the time of our birth. His mother died when I was eleven and I clearly remember him going off to her funeral quite upset because apparently the last time he saw her they had had a row.

    Our Grandmother was a lovely lady but had very bad eyesight and we both remember her with a wheelchair in her living room with which we would play with the wheels, she had the softest skin I can ever remember touching. Our Grandfather came to live with us around about this time after the death of his wife, our grandmother much to my mother’s disgust; she did not get on with him and said we did not have the room for him. I remember seeing my father washing and shaving him in the living room. He eventually went to a care home in Wokingham, near Reading where his sister Ivy lived.

    My mother was also one of 9 children and they lost their mother giving birth to the last, a girl

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