East End to North East: Life's Journey

By Amber Towlaw

This is a life's journey, through fun times, hard and difficult times.
Coping with divorce, single parenting, and what life throws at you.
It is not a rags to riches story, but one of an ordinary guy brought up in the East End of London.
taking you through the childhood there, on into adulthood and employment, which will take you on a journey throughout, the UK and abroad encountering Royalty, Actors, and Prime Minister, and ending up in the North East of England. Through anecdotes, small stories, some amusing, some tragic, but all true.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Jun 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781514499986

Amber Towlaw

I am coming up to retirement at the age of 67, worked for 50 years full time employment, and looking forward to enjoying life again with my partner of 7 years Judith. I have three children 5 grandchildren. living in a small town on the edge of the Dales in County Durham. I am a bit unconventional, probably annoying, but love my puddings.

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Copyright © 2016 by Amber Towlaw.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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.

Rev. date: 06/30/2016

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Background to my family

This is my story from humble East End of London a place called Homerton, situated on the edge of Hackney Marshes. To where I live now, TowLaw a quiet peaceful yet humble village. 1000ft. up on the edge of Weardale in County Durham.

My surname is Blencarne quite unusual, and the butt of many jokes at school and work throughout the years. On research I found the name derives from a small village up in the hills of Cumbria, not far from where I live now, (as I recall my life I find out that a lot of what happens in my early life with events and places comes back in later years). This village is called Blencarn, in the parish of Kirkland,. It is said the family settled there in the early 1100. Many years later, two brothers from the family left there, one went to where we know as Lancashire the other to Yorkshire. My descendants came from the Lancashire side.

My grandfather was born 1878. Thomas George. His trade was a Cooper, Barrel Maker, working on the docks along the Mersey near Birkenhead. He married Lizzy in 1906. lived in Prenton, Birkenhead. had three children, William, Alice and my father Gordon. I never met my grandfather but he was hard but fair man according to my uncle. Looking at his picture I would not like to cross him. I met my grandmother few times. Travelling up on the Irish mail train from Euston to Liverpool to see her and my uncle and aunt was always exciting, sound and smell of steam trains will always be with me. My uncle Bill worked on the railways at Birkenhead for over 30 years, always cycling to work back home again most of it uphill after a long hard day at work, he never complained. When my grandmother died we went up for funeral, I was too young to remember it too well, I was not around for my grandfather’s funeral his was the third burial in the massive Birkenhead cemetery he apparently died on the way to his friend’s funeral which was the first one in there, a blackthorn bush caught him and a thorn from the bush struck him on the nose penetrated into the blood stream, turned septic ended up with blood poisoning and died quickly.

With my father and my uncle like most families the war took over. My father joined the K.S.L.I. Kings Shropshire’s light Infantry. Was sent to Thetford in Norfolk to do some of his training, I used to tease him as this is where Dads Army programme was filmed. Many of his comrades died in the war, he never spoke about it much, He was one of the lucky ones at Dunkirk he survived the beaches then marched and fought all the way through Antwerp in Belgium, Arnhem in the Netherlands, it was here he did mention that they were so exhausted one night they fell asleep by a ditch they did not hear the tank come over the top, it missed him and killed his two friends. There was no time to dwell as they pushed on through Germany and on into Denmark.

We spent quite a lot of holidays up in Birkenhead with my aunt and uncle. To a young city boy, the trip up on the train or on the Crosville coach from Victoria station in London was exciting. that iconic coach station at Victoria has not changed in all these years. When you arrived in Liverpool it was place of magic, vitality, busy hive of activity. The Pier Head was the place all the trams, busses and boats would meet, the hub of life. Heading straight for the boats to Birkenhead we got our tickets 2d, probably half pence in today’s money. Down the gangplank which was always moving with the strong tide of the Mersey, onto the famous boats Royal Iris and Daffodil, there was a third cannot remember her name at present. My uncle’s house was near Prenton park which was nice, house had no garden, outside toilet in the back yard which backed onto alleyways. He never had a car so we would walk or get the bus to Morton shore. This place always inched into my memories, we got off the bus and walked what seemed to be a field that turned into sand then there was the sea rippling in, and at such speed and the look of my uncle telling me always respect the sea. It’s faster than you and I. My father’s sister Alice lived the other side of the Mersey in Ball-o -Ditton, Widnes, my uncle Jack was there and my cousins Jacqueline and Susan. Great holidays here too My uncle was well known in that area always making toys and repairing them for children, pipe in his mouth most of the time, firelighters by the fire which we used to make things with. He made me some farm fences for my animals, which I played with for years, he also made a box for my mum and dad to store their dominoes and cards in, which I still have to this day. For card games were the fashion then, Canasta would be played for hours along with cribbage. My cousins and I would love to go around the Lane’s there picking blackberry’s, then my aunt Alice would make the pies, we used to pass the field where the Widnes rugby player was always practicing his kicking for hours at a time. When we walked to Runcorn we would pass the rugby ground, match days it was heaving, we made our way to the Transporter Bridge that spanned the Manchester ship canal, this was a magnificent structure tall made of iron and steel with a moving platform, this icon was later taken down, and now I live in the north east where they have their own Transporter bridge in Stockton, and I went to see it lit up for its 100-year anniversary. The reason we walked there was to swim in the canal, yes that’s right swim in the dirty old canal, what health and safety, just had to remember when the boats came, swim back to the mud, or just follow the rats back to shores, ah that was life. My cousins and I would often spend time on the ferry across the Mersey staying on board for round trip, Wallasey, and New Brighton, which was just along from Birkenhead this was fascinating place Victorian wrought iron work adorned the shop front’s and walkways, sand was imported to make it like holiday place like that of Brighton on south coast of England, I have not been back there apart from a fleeting glance on today’s ferry boat, so I do not know how it has evolved now. The Mersey in the fifties was teaming with ocean going liners.

The Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth, United States and SS France would all be moored along the docks, also the Llandudno ferry, which we once travelled on to the Welsh coast, remembered for the rough crossing, on arrival there the pier and esplanade were all very Victorian again wrought ironwork everywhere, I recently visited Llandudno after 55 years and tried to describe the place to my partner Judith, blimey it’s hardly changed, I can still visualise me and my cousin walking up the pier and nagging them for ice cream and go on the donkeys.

My uncle Jack died and we were up for the funeral, it was massive. For he dedicated his life to the scout movement and was a very good friend of Lord Baden Powell always at the jamboree’s especially Chigwell north London edge Epping Forrest. I saw clipping in a paper saying over 300 mourners and large entourage of cars were at the funeral, fitting end to nice man.

On the other side of the family my mother’s side is less clear we visited them many times these were much shorter holidays remembering the trips the Lickey Hills was one of the highlights and just down the road to the Greet. local pub with an off licence window where we would pick up the Sherry and a bottle of pop. We had family members working at Bourneville, home of Cadbury’s chocolates there was always brown bags of chocolate in the house when we visited, these were full of Misshapes of sweets that did not make the quality, they were fine to me, there was always bags for us to take home but mostly Turkish delight.

My grandmother from my mother’s side I met several times but cannot remember my grandfather. They lived in Birmingham had three children Norman, Eva, and my mum Mary. Though my mother was born in Chipping Norton I only knew the family from their time in Accocks Green in Birmingham. Norman was a stern character and his wife Queenie always well-dressed lots fancy jewellery, they lived two doors up so were very close in every respect. Their son Mike was one of loveliest guy to meet very tall always smiling great fun, he eventually gave up a job in the city moved to the Isle of Man became Golf professional. My aunty Eva was a very hard worker, we used to go to her works to meet her, It was very demanding place terrible conditions, she used to make brooms and brushes from bristle and horse hair, there was a group of ladies with my aunt and they would sit round a big table, and in the middle was a receptacle of hot pitch, they had to wrap the bristle then dip them into the pitch and insert them into holes in broom heads no gloves, her hands were terrible, and strong smell of hot tar got up your nose, but it was a job.

She had a daughter called Mary who married great guy called Bernard, I used to stay over at their house in Rubery. I used to go to his work where he worked on the heavy metal presses in the body shop at car manufacturers, this was a very noisy hot place to work, to wind down he was into racing go carts and we would often go to Honeybourne race circuit to watch him race, ever since then I have been great fan motor racing. Tragedy would become that family. Mary came home from work and found her son hanging from the stairs he was bullied at school. She never got over it and took her own life then Bernard who had lost everything finally died too, tragic end to nice family.

My mother got married and had two children, They were evacuated in the war to the countryside for safety, unfortunately their father was killed in the war. Their mum met my dad at Blackpool whilst on short holiday. I am not sure what my father done straight after the war but my mum was a clippie on the buses. They eventually married, moved to London and that’s where I come into it courtesy of Hackney Hospital in1949

Though I did not know at the time it was the most terrible place to be I visited people there throughout my childhood, green corridors and wards, iron beds with just enough space to walk between, the nurses were not friendly and the ward sister was evil and there was such a horrible smell and people in those beds there was only one way out, that’s in a pine box. So I have half brother and sister, but to be honest, they are my brother and sister. My brother being the brainy and sensible one, after being conscripted joined GPO Telecommunication’s had great career and family. My sister also sensible went into banking, but more importantly, was brilliant at pastry always had great cakes, family get together always had great trifle, lemon meringue and mince pies. Me I was black sheep off the family, unconventional, into mischief failed my 11+.

So there you have a brief insight to my family background. I will now take you through a journey from my childhood growing up in the East End of London to North East of England where I live now.

I am just an ordinary person just like you, having gone through or going through life day by day, there is no pre training for life, so inevitability mistakes are made and hopefully you emerge at the other end. It’s not till you reach the end and look back and reflect, what has your life been, what have you done.

Reason I have put pen to paper was simply that in January 2009 I was made redundant, had little money apart from a forces pension, few debts which I had been paying off, I lived alone my family 200 miles away, I was cold and food was carrot or potato soup or anything cheap from the Co-op. I was not entitled to benefits as I had a pension, feeling down I asked myself was my life worth it? should or could I have done better.? Why was I on this planet.? So I got a couple of pieces of paper and started writing what I had done, 50 pages later I could not believe what my life had been, it brought back memories good and bad. Now I have returned to it 7 years later to update rewrite it and to finish it, as I am coming up to retire in July 2016

Hope you enjoy the journey and some of the nostalgia

E9 Kings Mead Estate, East London a large area of four story flats in rows running parallel to the Cut, which was the navigational part of the river Lea. Busy river then running through Essex and on into the Thames. constant flow of barges fully laden up and down the river all day long, firstly these barges were pulled by Shire Horses along the Tow path. Gradually over the years of my childhood, these were replaced by tugs, though more efficient with the speed came more erosion of the river banks and Towpaths. Between our flats and the Cut was an enormous wood yard. Whole trees would arrive be cut into planks and left to season, sometimes for many years. Though it was forbidden we managed together to get into this wood yard in the evenings climb and wander about. The smell of the wood was lovely and it was fascinating to see the trees cut into planks piled high like a tower each tree had tag on it with the size date and origin. Lucky for us we were in the first block of flats, this ran adjacent to the main road to Hackney Marshes, and ours being a corner house we could see everything. Looking back this area of east London and the estate in particular people might view them as slums, but in fact our house was big inside 3 good bedrooms and there were lots of friendships made. One occasion dozens of double decker buses turned up and we all went to London to see ice skating and pantomimes. Although it was nice house for us, it was not good for the coalmen or any delivery person, as there were no lifts. A communal rubbish chute was on every landing, this dropped down into very large metal bins, and quite often would catch fire if someone put hot ashes down there. There was a large play area at the back with large air raid shelters, we used these for games of squash, tennis, football and general climbing, I was always in trouble for scuffing my shoes. There was always something happening the fire brigade were out a lot sometimes for the wood yard but often for the local rubbish depot across the road next to the river, and when there was fire in the flats the large turntable ladders would arrive, fireman hanging onto the sides of the large wagon bells ringing, was quite a site. We had the usual and regular Corona man with his lorry of fizzy drinks, including my favourite Tizer with flip top lid, treat with Sunday dinner.

At weekends we also had the man with his horse and cart delivering vinegar, we had to race down all the flights of stairs with our empty bottles to be filled from a wooden barrel on the back of his cart. There was also a man on his tricycle who came with big stone wheel attached to the bike this is where he would sharpen your knives.

I got on well with George. The United Dairies milkman, at weekends I would help him on his milk round, running up and downstairs delivering milk, orange juice and my favourite Mickey a chocolate milk drink, a good way to earn pocket money. Another good way but harder was a paper round, getting up early every morning before I went to school that really set up my working life. To this day I always get up early and make use of the day, I think staying in bed till last possible moment then running to catch up with everything is not the best way to start the day. Having said that working six days a week now getting up at 5am in cold