Chapter Ten - Ups and Downs in the Seventies
In the operatic society, different producers came in for each show. Sometimes we had a 'guest' producer from another local society. One such producer was Nellie Lindsey. She had come in as a guest choreographer first and then came in as producer as well in a later show. She was in her early fifties and was a dancing teacher as well. She seemed quite terrifying at first. A lot of the men did not seem to like her because she had a sharp voice and cared very much for a professional approach to her work although the shows were amateur. She was extremely irritated with people who missed rehearsals making trivial excuses or who chatted and did not listen to instructions when scenes were being set. She was absolutely right of course. We all wanted our shows to be good and amateur shows certainly can be so, when the cast take things seriously and work hard. Maybe she was too sharp at times and I was very afraid of her in the beginning.
However at a party she wrote and performed a wonderful parody on 'If my friends could see me now' from 'Sweet Charity', called 'If I could read your mind'. It was a brilliant send up of herself and also of the people in our society who had criticised her. It was done with good humour but made a lot of people squirm. She obviously knew exactly how some people felt about her. I am always a sucker for someone who writes clever verse and so I discussed astrology with her and asked if she wanted her horoscope done.
This was the beginning of our friendship. She came and visited and I went to her house too. She started up a Saturday dance class and Mary, Maggy and I went to it and there met a lot of people from her 'home' society, a rival of ours on the local scene. The classes were wonderful, we did ballet, burlesque, tap and she planned the classes with the same professional precision as she did her productions. They were often the happiest times of my week. Nellie is mentioned in a book called 'Let's do a Musical' where her talent with chorus movement is praised. She had entertained troops during the war with ENSA. At the Kenneth More Theatre in Ilford there is a plaque on a special seat in her memory.
Being in amateur shows was not my only interest at this time. I became very interested in the idea of archaelogy. I suppose it ties in with being interested in history generally and genealogy. Of course the opportunity for me to get involved was extremely limited. However I did find out about a local dig that was taking place near Stratford East. I applied to go and help one day and took both Michael and Cathy who was still in her buggy. I was the only one that took children with me. Unfortunately it had been raining and the ground was very muddy. I put the buggy at the edge of the marked out trough where we were to work. We were given small trowels and told to be very gentle and only to sort of scratch sideways on the top of the soil. I actually found one small chipped piece of terracotta. It didn't look very exciting but the people in charge were quite pleased and put it in a box with other bits and pieces.
When the children became seriously restive, I knew I would have to leave. My hands and wrists were absolutely covered in sticky mud and there did not appear to be anywhere to wash on the site. I had seen a public toilet nearby so we all trooped in there on the way back to the bus stop. I started to rinse off the mud and an irate attendant came out, shouting that I couldn't wash there if I was dirty. It was obvious I had to finish what I was doing as there was no way I could have got home in the state I was in. So while I tried to argue reasonably with her, I continued to wash. I said "Oh, is it only clean people who can wash here?" She said I was making a mess of the basin and the floor so I kept up a soothing patter and said "look, I'm washing it all away now" and "See, now I am wiping up the floor with toilet paper". I wish cloakroom attendants did not always dislike me so much. I have had this problem all my life. As a child playing with my friend Valerie in the park near our school, if we used the toilet, the attendant always came out and glared at us as if we were vandals about to pinch the soap or smash the basins.
When I was very pregnant with Jennifer and I went to the public loo near Charing Cross, a lady came out of a cubicle and held the door open for me. This was in the days when you had to put a penny in the slot. I could hardly be rude, she was being kind, so I went inside, still clutching my penny. In a flash there was a hammering on the cubicle door and the irate attendant was shouting "I saw you, thinking you can get in without paying". I came out and gave her the penny, but I couldn't help feeling that she was over-reacting!
Once, years before, at Richmond Ice Rink, while changing into our skates, people were piling up their coats on a sort of counter in the change room. There must have been about twenty coats there already and there was no sign saying that this was not the "done thing". I took my coat over to the counter and said to Pixie "this attendant has not shouted at me yet" and as I put my coat down she shrieked from afar "Don't put your coat there, the counter is not meant for all your stuff". Well, Pixie and I became quite hysterical, we both turned and ran out into the foyer of the ice rink with tears running down our cheeks. When we recovered sufficiently, we went back inside the change room and the lady looked quite subdued and anxious. I don't suppose she could have guessed that we were overcome with mirth. Perhaps she thought we had gone to complain to someone.
Anyway, that muddy day was the end of my practical involvement with archaeology.
John was very pleased that Jennifer was interested in music. He bought her a
second hand clarinet and as the school was very musically oriented, she had
lessons from a teacher who came into the school, so now was learning the
violin, recorder and clarinet. Michael too was picked to learn the violin
though he did not keep it up for long. There is a Music School in Redbridge
borough and Jennifer was in a band there and played in many concerts, in the
town hall and in parks during the summer months. The music school together with
all the schools in the borough also performed at the Albert Hall every few
years. These shows were a copy of the 'Last Night of the Proms'. They had the
Sea Songs, 'Jerusalem', 'Land of Hope and Glory' etc. and I went to several of
these as both Jennifer and Cathy later took part in them. Jennifer always had a
lot of friends, she now had musical friends apart from school friends. I had
first noticed her emerging theatrical talent at Junior School when a teacher
with a real flare for getting the best out of young children, had produced the
musical show 'Scrooge' which I really enjoyed. It was better than some senior
school shows I have seen, and some of the eleven-year old children, including
Jennifer who had a part in it, showed real promise.
I was pleased she was becoming interested in acting. Although it had been my
interest when young, I had never imagined that it would be hers, and would
never have been a pushy typical 'stage mother'. When she was younger, she did
not have a tuneful voice at all, and I had not thought this would change. I
would never have believed when she was about five that one day she would have
the lovely singing voice she now has. Of course there were a lot of tears and
rows over clarinet practices. John did not seem to know how to encourage a
child without causing stress and misery. He thought I was not encouraging her
enough, I just wanted her to be happy. Perhaps somewhere between the two
attitudes, there is a happy medium.
When we later did 'Carousel' at the operatic society, which Nellie produced, they needed a lot of children in the last act and Jennifer was one of them. She really enjoyed it and cried when the final curtain came down. Mary and I were both in the dancing for that show and I even had to do the splits!
Cathy as a very little girl sang much more tunefully than Jennifer had done at the same age. She used to make up songs with strange words and sing at the top of her voice on buses. I can't remember all the songs, the only one that sticks in my mind was called 'Tom is the one who makes everyone healthy'! She was the naughtiest of my children especially when very young. She ran in the road if the gate was ever left open for a moment, flung things off table tops if they were in her way, broke Michael's toys and was generally a handful. But this was a comparatively short stage. By the time she was three she was rather timid with strange children. She would not go on swings in the park if any other child was near which was very irritating if I had taken her by bus to a particularly nice park in another area, especially to have fun.
She was inclined to speak in a whine when things didn't go her way, but she also could be delightful company as she was so intelligent and interested in everything around her. She used to make personal remarks about people on buses and trains in a shrill voice and it wasn't until she was about four that I managed to get her to stop doing this. She said things like 'That lady's coat is green and her hat is blue and they don't match' and she would ask questions of people on trains like 'What have you got on underneath your coat?' and when they told her it was a dress, she would say 'What's underneath your dress?' And so on! When I told her she must not say rude things about people, she said once of a poor drably dressed pensioner 'Look at that lady's beautiful dress'. Then I said 'No, don't say anything until after the person has gone and then tell me quietly'.
The only time I was pleased about her shrill comments was when a man on a bus threw his sweet paper out the window. She shrieked 'look at that man, he's naughty, he threw his papers out the window. He should have put them in a rubbish bin'. The whole bus looked to see which man this comment referred to, and I can bet he thought twice before disposing wrongly of his litter in the future.
We always kept in touch with Aunt Mabel in Ongar and all three children
would visit with me. Aunt Mabel's son in Scotland died suddenly from a heart
attack. I had never
met him which was sad as he was my blood cousin, though I had met her daughter,
my mother's first cousin, who lived in Devon. It was terrible to see how Aunt
Mabel went down from being a vital strong humorous lady into a frail old lady.
Losing a child at any time must take years off one's life and in this case, we
saw it happening before our eyes.
When she died not too long afterwards, I was terribly sad. I had only known Aunt Mabel for about ten years I suppose, but she was part of my life and I cried so much at the funeral it was rather embarrassing. I seemed more upset than some of the posh Babbages who turned up for the event. There was something so terrible about seeing her coffin being lowered into the ground that I thought perhaps a cremation would be less harrowing for the ones left behind.
It wasn't long before I found this was not so. Eileen and little Graham, now huge Graham, had visited us regularly at Woodford. We often looked after Graham in the summer holidays to help Eileen out. John did not mind this sort of thing at all. He liked having more children around to influence and inspire, and of course ultimately to criticise and upset.
Often when I was in the West End, I would visit Eileen at Selfridges too and we would have lunch in the staff canteen where she was allowed to take a guest. One day when Cathy was about three, and we were in Oxford Street, we popped in to see Eileen and she said she couldn't swallow properly and it was worrying her. That was in July. She saw a locum doctor in about September and he was very rude to her and said 'You just want to get out of going to work, it's all in your bloody mind'. A lot of people have never forgiven this unknown doctor for being so brutal and so very wrong.
By November when her sister in the Midlands who was a nurse came to London and had her seen again at a hospital, it was found she had cancer of the gullet and that there was little hope. By this time, Eileen and her mother were completely reconciled and her mother had met Graham, her only grandchild, and regretted her early refusal to meet him. The sister who was a nurse managed to get a place for Eileen in St Christopher's Hospice. Staff are specifically trained to deal with the dying, and there is not the usual efficient bustle that can be so frightening in an ordinary hospital where the emphasis is on trying to cure people and send them home as quickly as possible. Visiting was unrestricted in the hospice, the colour of the place seemed to be blue rather than harsh white. Staff took time to explain things to the patients so that fear was kept to a minimum.
Before I visited her the first time, I was in a fearful state. I cried for several nights every time I thought about it and couldn't bear to think how she must feel and what one could possibly say to her. I told my mother of course by letter and she too was shattered. We were so grateful for all Eileen had done in our hungry days and it seemed so unfair that she should be struck down so young when she had not had enough of the good things of life so far. I knew I would have to visit and not be so selfish as to worry about how distressed I was. I dreaded the thought of crying or making it worse for her. I had to take Cathy with me every time. It was a long journey, starting with the Central Line to Mile End, then the District Line to Whitechapel, then the Metropolitan Line to New Cross Gate, and then Southern Region to Sydenham, followed by quite a long walk. We went every two weeks. Cathy used to be a bit of a whining child and I used to take sweets to bribe her and hope she would be quiet and patient in the hospice.
Eileen never had any pain at all, thank God! She just got thinner and thinner until you felt she would fall over if you touched her. She told me how they had explained everything to her and asked if she had any particular problems. She had always loved her food and she said she would like to be able to eat. I have never understood what those doctors did, but she ate three meals a day for months although nothing obviously got through to be digested. She was initially sick but they stopped this happening too. Her mother used to visit every single day except Monday when there were no visitors allowed at the hospice. My mother sent books about diets that cure cancer and I read up everything I could but Eileen was very resigned. She seemed absolutely sure there was no chance. She was kind and helpful to other patients in the room with her and was very popular with the staff. Even though I knew the situation, I was still terribly upset when her sister rang and said she had died. As it was during the summer holidays, we had all been to see her about four days earlier and had sat out in the garden of the Sydenham hospice.
She was cremated at Honor Oak in South London. I went to her mother's house
in Brixton and was driven to the crematorium. Graham did not attend, apparently
the
school felt it that it would be better if he did not. He was about fifteen and
becoming difficult. Seeing the coffin disappear through those curtains was
every bit as upsetting as seeing the open grave at Aunt Mabel's funeral. I was
asked back to the house afterwards but apart from the fact that it was a long
way out of my way towards South Woodford, I just could not face speaking to
anyone. I went and sat in the park on a bench high up, overlooking London and
cried so much that I wondered how I would ever be able to leave that quiet
place in order to get home. I must have sat there for well over an hour until I
realised it was almost evening and I must start on the long journey back home.
Eileen's other sister, Jean, kept in touch with us and also did her best to help Graham. From now on, I think he ought to be referred to as Graham K to differentiate him from Graham, my ex-husband. When he left school he went into the Army but hated it and later absconded. He turned up at our house with a mysterious leg injury and no papers that would enable him to get work. I contacted the army and they sent the Police around and wanted to take him to Colchester Prison for desertion. With the combined efforts of Jean, his next of kin and me, he was allowed to leave the army. Jean bought a flat in Sutton when her mother died and tried to make a home for Graham K. However he owed her money and then disappeared. Over the following fifteen years this was the pattern of his life. He reappeared with apologies from time to time, sometimes to me, sometimes to Jean. At first we hoped he would settle and become an ordinary citizen. Lets hope that when Jean herself died, she still had hope. Sadly I know now he will never change and because of his involvement with heroin I am not keen to see him again. He gradually stopped being the feckless but appealing young man he once was.
When I was 38 my life began to change again after a fairly static decade in which I had lived at the same address, and been involved mainly with children, schools and turbulent domesticity. Apart from being a cleaner I had not worked for years, nor travelled except for stressful English family holidays and a few short breaks with Mary and the children. And as for romance, well I was sure that was over forever!
Mary, my singing friend, who was only a week older than I and had a slightly similar horoscope, also found her life was beginning to change at about that time. Mary's mother, who was by then 77, died after several months' illness which was very sad for Mary as she had been a very close and dutiful daughter and the relationship between them was exceptionally harmonious. Then her brother, who had mental problems, jumped out of an upstairs window. He was naturally very distressed over his mother's death too. He was not badly injured but went to a mental hospital as Mary was working and not able to look after him, although he came home at certain weekends.
Then Mary decided to sell the house in which she had been born in Chingford. She now owned it outright and was able to buy a very well built modern upstairs purpose built flat not too far away with two bedrooms, centrally heated and with a garage and garden. That left her with change to invest from the difference in price of a house and a flat. Being a good listener, Mary always had a lot of friends, and so she had to have two flatwarming parties to fit everyone in. But the biggest change in her life came soon afterwards when she was walking her little dog in Epping Forest. She met a man she knew by sight as he was a bank customer and they started talking. That evening she came to tea with us so it must have been a Tuesday! I asked her what she had been doing that day, and she said 'You'd be surprised!' And I was! She was 38 and a virgin or rather she had been a virgin when she woke that morning. Don was a real charmer with the so-called 'gift of the gab'. He must have been very gifted in other spheres too because that was a considerable conquest in such a short time. He was married of course, but told Mary that he and his wife lived separate lives. That is the sort of thing one does not normally give any credence to, but later on when she got to know his wife, she was told the same thing. His wife really did have a separate room and was not interested in him and said that she would leave him if she could afford to.
So Mary now had a secret life and I am sure it gave her pleasure just to know how amazed the people at the operatic society would be if they knew about the quiet bank clerk who had until so recently always lived with her mother and brother. A year or two later her brother committed suicide by walking out of the hospital and into the bushes on a golf course. He must have died of exposure. Although Mary was filled with grief about the two deaths in her family, it did free her from the heavy responsibilities she had shouldered all through her adult life, though I am sure she did not see it that way at the time.
As to the beginning of the changes in my life, for the first time in years, I would soon be able to look for part time work which would fit in with Cathy's school hours. There was a meeting at the school before she started at which the Headmistress asked that children should not be left at school all day in the early weeks. It was thought to be too long a day for the newcomers.
Cathy started school on the 12th January 1976 and I decided that I would aim at getting a job to start at the beginning of March. John behaved in his usual argumentative way and said that I should start as soon as possible. This was quite incredible to me. Cathy was by far his favourite child and I thought he would want to do everything the school recommended to make her happy. I suppose he just couldn't help arguing against any decision made by anyone else. He turned quite nasty and said that jobs were soon going to be harder to get and that I was just making excuses and did not really want to work. He went on about it so much that I gave in and started looking in the local paper immediately just to show him how wrong he was. I suppose I handled the whole thing wrongly. I should have started by saying that I wanted to go to work on Cathy's first day at school and then he would have ranted and raged and said it wasn't fair to her and I should wait a few weeks!
I hoped I would not find anything too soon, but unfortunately, or fortunately as it turned out to be such a happy choice, I found a suitable part time job near Liverpool Street Station almost immediately. I was interviewed by the Tax Consultant at a Chartered Accountants and it was agreed I should start on the 19th January, thus giving Cathy a week only to settle into the new school.
The man who had interviewed me at Callingham Crane, the accountants, was called Jeff. At first I thought he was older than me, but later I found out he was in fact a year younger. He had a round rather pink baby face and was losing his very fair hair fast. He was a Yorkshire man, kindly to me and said he knew how awful a new job could be initially. There was also a very young chap in the office called Bob, who was wildly enthusiastic about income tax. Although he was only 23 he had about three children and belonged to some strict religious group that did not observe Christmas and which also meant he could not donate money to staff leaving presents and that sort of thing. I would never have imagined that anyone could love a job in tax accountancy as much as he did.
Sometimes he would come in and still standing, would start opening the post and exclaiming about the contents before he had taken his coat off. Bob and Jeff used to talk continually about things like having saved some Dowager Duchess £23,000 and what the Inspector of Taxes had said. I found it incredibly boring and thought I would not be able to stand the job for long. Also, I had terrible backache at the end of each day, which lasted for several weeks. I think this was simply caused by sitting at a desk after so many years away from work.
This rather unsatisfactory situation might have continued indefinitely, but for one fact. They discovered I could type. They also realised I was much more suited to typing than to checking VAT returns and sorting out invoices. Previously the tax people had had to go into the general office and beg one of the partners' secretaries to do the tax letters, and it was now decided I could be the official tax office typist and sit with the others in the general office. Although some of the new golfball and electronic typewriters were starting to be used at this time, luckily for me the one I had to use was of the old fashioned sort with which I was familiar.
I worked there for five years, almost the longest lasting job I have ever had and it was happy in the same way as my first job at the Durban Solicitors had been. Part of the reason may have been that I was so pleased to get away from the atmosphere at home, especially at holiday times when everyone was there. There were later years when I volunteered to go in between Christmas and New Year when only four people were needed to answer phone calls and deal with anything urgent, I did not exactly explain to the family that there had been any choice in the matter. It was not as if my presence would help the children. I usually or rather always did intervene in rows that I witnessed between John and the children, but equally John often said it was my intervention that made him even angrier. I don't think this was true, but I also don't think I improved matters either.
It was such a relief to get away from it all, and in my happiness I used to make the other women in the office laugh a lot by being silly and telling them funny stories. If the laughter became too noisy, I would get very worried and try to hush them, saying 'Please don't - I'll get into trouble if there's too much noise'. We did actually get a lot of work done as well, but there always seemed to be time for us to have fun. There were two older ladies, nearing retirement but very different. One whose name was Phyllis, was gushing superficially, but difficult and inclined to be catty underneath, and the other lady, Edna, was very youthful and easy going.
Then there was Brenda who always wanted the window closed and complained about the draught. No one liked her very much but I never had cause to argue with her about anything. Margaret was 26 and funny. She was engaged to an Irish labourer who was in his forties. She used to joke about marrying Prince Andrew and said he might marry a commoner and as she put it 'No one is commoner than me!' There was June who was divorced with two teenage children and typed the balance sheets and long accounts and Ruth who was a bookkeeper. She was a lovely person and also had two teenage children. When her son had his barmitzvah, we were all invited to the synagogue, the kiddush afterwards and the huge party the next night at the Empire Rooms in Tottenham Court Road. I made Michael go to the Saturday events as I thought he should know how much a Jewish boy his age had to learn, and perhaps be grateful that he would was not in a similar position. Michael did not seem pleased when they made him sit downstairs with the men and to wear a borrowed skull cap. I had not realised this would happen. Everyone at the kiddush remarked that he looked fairly Jewish himself and no one would have known he wasn't.
Ilma was the telephonist/receptionist at Callingham Crane and did her job very well, was always charming to clients and I learned a lot from her that was very helpful years later when I had to do a similar job. There were several others in the office at various times but these were the main core that I remember. Most people knew sooner or later that I was not happy at home, but I was fairly careful not to say too much. I don't think they ever realised quite how unhappy I was though, because I was so jolly and jokey at work.
After Phyllis retired, she took a part time helper job at the special school for children with learning difficulties at which John taught, which was very unfortunate for me. She used to come back to various functions in the office and always spoke to everyone about my 'lovely husband', which made me feel awkward. I often thought how much better it would be to have a husband who was openly a drunkard or villain so people would realise and be sympathetic. I was quite sure that however friendly they seemed, most people were probably against me regarding my attitude to John and it made my unhappiness greater. June and Ilma knew more than the others about the details of my life. Ilma had a neurotic husband and June was very bitter about men generally since her divorce.
During the lunch hours which I worked through as I was only part-time and had to get to the school by 3.30 pm, I used to man the switchboard and take messages. It was usually very quiet and rather a boring time but still a pleasant rest for me. A gentleman called Peter van der Pol telephoned one day and left a message that he would be dropping by to fetch some papers from one of the partners, a Mr Holgate, who was very much the upper-class (or trying to be) rather pompous patronising type of person. I sat idly writing the message as follows: "Peter van der Pol is picking up the papers, perhaps you'd put them promptly in a properly parcelled package, pasting on a paper label and he'll pop in to procure them, thereby saving pounds of postage". I gave him the note when he returned and he looked quite staggered and said "Did he say this?" "No," I said, "of course not". I don't think he ever knew quite what to make of me and he was not my favourite of the partners. I did not like the way he sometimes said "well done" in the condescending sort of voice an old fashioned army colonel might have used to a lowly subordinate. Furthermore, he seemed to have very little sense of humour.
In those days, British Rail used to run excursions called Merrymakers where for a very small amount one could go on day trips to various places, starting very early in the morning and always at weekends. Michael was mad about trains, even Underground ones, and one day, a very cheap Merrymaker trip to Glasgow was advertised. It was a special trip for trainspotters. I think it was £6 for adults and £3 for children. As my grandfather who had died in Ongar in Essex had been born in Glasgow, I was quite excited about going there too. John planned to take Cathy out for the day and Michael and I set off at about 5.30 am. We took sandwiches, crisps, cake, bananas and drinks with us too. Unfortunately, I think we ate the whole lot before we reached Euston for the 7 am train. We were not only hungry but very tired as both of us had been so excited the night before and worrying about not hearing the alarm that we had not slept well. On the train from Euston, I was the only woman in our carriage and Michael was the only young boy. The passengers were all men of varying ages, all with notebooks and pens and carrying lunchboxes presumably packed by their doting mothers. There was a special stop at Crewe where one could get the numbers of locomotives in the engine sheds and there was always great excitement when a train passed us; everyone would rush to the side of the train and begin conferring '86 317' 'no, wasn't it 517?' etc etc. One train whooshed past us so fast, no one could possibly have read its number and I said facetiously to Michael '73 218'. A lot of men looked uncertain as to whether they should mark it down or not! I had an awful headache by the time we reached Glasgow. We had 5 hours there and Michael wanted to spend all of it sitting on the station but I said we had to explore a little bit first so we went to the Gorbals which I had heard about. What a disappointment, just a lot of high-rise flats simmering in the heat that day. But we saw the Clyde and we walked along Buchanan Street and saw lots of drunks staggering out of doorways even at midday. Then I sat on a luggage trolley for the rest of the day at the station while Michael took down numbers. We never had time to go to Eaglesham where my grandfather was born and we didn't reach home until after midnight. We had to get a taxi home from the station and were exhausted but it was a very interesting experience!
There was a lovely summer in England in 1976. My father came over again and
met Cathy for the first time. All three children were very fond of him. My
father had always had a way with children. He would sometimes tease the younger
ones by saying things like 'What's your name Alice?' and then the child would
shriek 'You've said it, you've said it already'. And think she had caught him
out! My father sometimes picked Cathy up from school so I could go shopping
after work and on a Wednesday which was my day off, he and I went on excursions
around London and he always bought me lunch in a restaurant. My father was fond
of sport and Nanny and Granddad invited him to their house to watch the World
Cup or whatever big match it was that year. I know nothing about sport but know
it was some important football match. The Cup Final perhaps?
Before he went back to South Africa, he said that now he was no longer working,
he would be able to visit us more often, and said he would return the following
year, but towards Autumn, and then he would stay until Christmas. He had often
wanted to experience Christmas and a Winter in England.
After he left, I decided to do an Astrology course. Having a mother who was an astrologer, I had picked up a lot and also had read a lot of books. But I thought it would be nice to get some sort of qualification and as money was getting easier, I signed on for the course at the Faculty of Astrological Studies. That year the course was held in Friends House in Euston. I had to go once a week so I went straight from work and wandered around London eating sometimes at Cranks and sometimes at the YMCA canteen. I sometimes was able to meet a friend for an hour or two as well.
One of the astrological things that has most impressed me is the way that Mercury Retrograde which occurs three times every year for about three weeks often creates such havoc with mercurial things like transport and communications. In a Michael Palin programme years later, the Indians mentioned that Mercury retrograde had caused some awful delay in his plans when he missed a connection. It isn't that accidents and muddle happen constantly during these periods, but when things do go wrong, it often is at these times. The Titanic sank when Mercury was retrograde and there was some confusion about the iceberg message. Mainly though, it is a question of taking especial care with arrangements, times, meeting places and avoiding unnecessary journeys. Also its important to think about where your keys are so as not to lock yourself out. And to be prepared for delays with transport, cancelled trains, traffic jams and therefore to set off earlier than usual.
During the next Spring, I passed the Astrological Certificate examination but never went on to do the Diploma correspondence course. Because I was on the course, I left the operatic society and this break made it easier when later Mary and I joined the rival group, following Nellie.
My mother was told she had cataracts in the Spring of 1977 and was very depressed about it. The new operations were starting to happen at about this time, but she said she would be too afraid to have an eye operation. She came over again to see us in May and again we thought this was for good. She brought her usual tin trunk of books and gave notice at her Durban place. She knew that my father was also planning to come back that year as he had promised the previous year, and so she rented a flat in Lea Bridge Road, although she spent most of her days with us. The flat was not self-contained, but she had two rooms and a kitchen and she got on very well with the landlord, a flamboyant gay ex-actor called Mr Kennington.
When my father was due to arrive in the August, I think she was quite apprehensive about his impending arrival, as she had not seen much of him for several years. He always paid money into her bank account and perhaps they occasionally spoke on the phone, but that's all.
However, when they were both there together, it seemed very peaceful. My father had grown quite deaf and often sat quietly in an armchair in the corner of our lounge and certainly did not seem aware of any of the discords in the household. My mother had changed too, but in a different direction. She never stopped talking. It seemed to be compulsive, one subject led to another and I thought it might be that she was lonely in Durban as so many of her friends had died and she had been saving up all the things she wanted to say, and was now directing them towards us. I wished as usual that she would stay in England. My father did comment on her endless talking and said 'What's happened to your mother, she never used to talk like that, did she?'
There were two people now who could fetch Cathy from school so sometimes I was able to work longer hours and earn more money, which was very nice.
My mother commented that my father seemed to have aged a lot since she had seen him, but was not unduly concerned. I had lovely days out with him and he seemed to have a lot of energy for these outings, although he slept a lot in his chair during the day at other times. On one of our outings, he told me how he had felt when my mother returned to him in December 1962 after her first visit to England. When she came to England for Jennifer's birth, he had apparently thought she would be out of his life for good. I think she loved him much more than he ever loved her.
All through my childhood she had discussed how unhappy she was with him and how much he hurt her feelings by sulking and refusing to speak to her, but he had never before discussed his marriage with me. I was quite surprised. He said the reason he had often not spoken to her, was because he was so angry and frustrated with her behaviour, he just couldn't think of anything to say at all. He admitted he had been nasty to her when she returned in 1962. This had led to their eventual final separation, but he said he had been so happy while she was overseas thinking that she would want to stay with me forever, that his disappointment had been acute. It all seemed so sad and wasteful. She loved him but was never sensitive to his feelings. He was disappointed to find she was not the woman for him, and yet was unable to spell out why or talk about their problems. Perhaps if they had separated years earlier, they might both have found happiness elsewhere with more suitable partners.
That same year, when Jennifer was 16, she joined the Woodford Operatic Society in the chorus of 'Merrie England' and later had a part in their Christmas pantomime and also in the show 'White Horse Inn'. She was now showing considerable talent and had a very good review in the local paper.
Jennifer's Grammar School became a comprehensive half way through her school career. This was a time when this was happening all over the country. In some areas, all schools became comprehensive but in Redbridge one boys' and one girls' grammar school were retained. John said this destroyed the point of comprehensives being of mixed abilities as the cream had been skimmed off the top first. I don't think this change made any difference to Jennifer and probably most of the girls were glad to see boys admitted. Jennifer passed five 'O' levels including English and Art, and went back to school to carry on in the Sixth Form. I never liked the Headmistress of her school, possibly because she reminded me slightly of my headmistress at Girls' High.
She was very ladylike to be sure, and spoke in a quiet steady voice that was somehow chilling and she could always be heard despite the softness of her voice, perhaps because of her very precise diction.
At one school meeting, she really infuriated me, as well as some of the other mothers I spoke to. The school apparently had problems with absenteeism. Miss Evans said that although she received letters of apology for absence from the parents, she felt that there was no need at all in these modern times for girls to be ill and miss school. She used phrases like 'enlightened knowledge of hygiene' and 'modern medicine'. Maybe she put it tactlessly, but I was very annoyed because I knew Jennifer would not lightly take time off school and might be worried if she were to fall ill in the future.
John and I were in complete agreement over the tone of the lady's speech. I should perhaps say at this point that there were times that were pleasant in our family life and we did share humour and fun on occasions. This is why John did not seem to understand why I was so unhappy with him. It was like that question of attitudes, is the cup half full or half-empty, only this was not a half and half matter. There may have only been actual rows 30% of the time, but all the time I was anxious and wondering when the next explosion would take place. It was like living in the shadow of a volcano that might erupt at any time. So even on the quieter days, I was never relaxed or really happy.
However, to get back to Miss Evans and her speech, one day about two weeks later, Jennifer did catch some sort of virus and had two days off. When we had to send her back with a note, we decided to have a go at the stiff lady, and we laughed a lot whilst composing the following letter to the class teacher:
'Despite Miss Evans' quaint notion that illness is a thing of the past in these days of advanced medical knowledge and better hygiene in the home, we have somehow failed to prevent Jennifer from contracting some strange new virus. For this we apologise!' (And then we both signed it)
Unfortunately a few weeks later, Jennifer had a stomach upset. So we sent another note saying:
Jennifer again
Has developed a pain,
Perhaps its a strain.
She also felt sickly
But that passed quite quickly!
This note was reproduced in the school magazine later, so it couldn't have caused any offence.
One thing cheered me up a lot. At the weekend, John and I had visited my in-laws and Granddad was dozing in his chair in the lounge while John started one of his tirades against me. The others must have been in the garden or kitchen and John must have thought his father was sound asleep and would not hear the way he was speaking to me. Being amongst others usually put a curb on his tongue. On this occasion he was not particularly awful, in fact I was not even especially upset, I was so used to that sort of thing.
However the next day, when everyone was out, the doorbell rang and I was astonished to see Granddad on the doorstep. He said he had felt he must come round and apologise for the dreadful way John had spoken to me. He said he had not realised how rude he was and could only say he was sorry on John's behalf. It took me some time to remember what he was talking about as it had been one of the milder outbursts. But I was very grateful for this episode. At last I felt I might have an ally, someone who understood, and understood better than my own father did too.
Michael was one of the few boys at his Junior School to qualify for the one remaining boys' grammar school in the area, Ilford Boys' High. John was not at all keen on boys only schools and he believed strongly in comprehensive education. But even John was not terribly happy about our local comprehensive, which had previously been a Secondary Modern, and had a poor reputation. There was a much better comprehensive a short bus ride away and I went to see the Headmaster there, as I thought that would be a compromise. However as we were not in the right catchment area, there simply wasn't room for Michael and so in the end John agreed he should go to the grammar school. We both wanted the best for Michael but did not always agree on what the best was. Michael's feelings have never been easy to read, but he appeared to be quite happy at the school and certainly by the end of his school career had made several friends. I was grateful that all my children seemed so much happier at their secondary schools than I had been at mine.
My father planned to return to Durban early in the New Year of 1978, after experiencing his first English Winter. He was worried about the strange sores that kept erupting on his arms, hands and face. He thought they must be caused by the lack of sunshine and felt sure he would get better as soon as he got back into the South African climate. Apart from the sores, he seemed quite well. 1977 was also the year when both Mary and I turned 40.
Having followed Nellie to her home operatic society where they were doing 'Annie Get your Gun', Mary and I both auditioned for the dancing and got in. We had to be clowns in one number and Nellie wanted us to do heads over heels next to each other. Mary did not like doing this but it was something I could still do quite easily.
One night after I had gone up to bed and was lying there, John came upstairs in a terrible rage about something or other. I really can't remember what it was about because as I have said, the causes were just too ridiculous. He may have been angry about the way the curtains were pulled, or about some comment I had made hours earlier, or simply that he couldn't find some possession of his. I just don't know, but he came to the foot of the bed with his usual snarling voice and lunged at me. My action was instinctive. I just pulled my knees up to my chin to protect my body and put my arms over my face. As he crashed down on me I felt a terrible pain in the fourth toe of my left foot. I cried out and he stopped, though stopped what I will never know. He said he also did not know what he had intended to do.
I knew something was very wrong and by morning when I was unable to get my shoe on because of the pain, I realised I would have to go to Casualty at Whipps Cross Hospital. It was very difficult to think of a proper explanation of my injury to my father the next morning as I had been perfectly all right when I went up to bed at 10.30 pm the night before. He did not seem unduly curious however, and accepted my vague mumbled explanation. As it was a working day, I rang to say that I would be late and I had fallen. I had to get a taxi as I could not walk properly and only had a slipper on my foot. It turned out that my toe was broken and nothing much could be done. They simply bound it to the next toe neatly and told me to take painkillers. I bought some awful brown flat open sandals so that I could get to work and the worst part of all this was the realisation that it might prevent me dancing in the show. The only person I told the truth to regarding this accident was Mary.
I felt a bit sorry for John because he seemed very upset about the whole thing too and had not set out to break my toe. For about three weeks I had to watch the dancing rehearsals and make notes though I could not join in. By the time of the show, I was still unable to get my ballet pumps on so had to cut a hole where the toe was and wear a black sock underneath. The good thing was that I was unable to do the head over heels so Mary did not have to either!
That Christmas it was nice for us to have both our sets of parents together
with us for the first time ever. We all played games on Boxing Day and I
especially remember playing
'Consequences'. Cathy was getting on for seven and she must have been quite
interested in these two foreign grandparents who usually visited separately and
now were together in our house. After each round of the game, the children
liked to read out what their complete story had been. You know how the actual
game goes, for example 'The King' met 'Alice in Wonderland'. He said 'What size
gloves do you wear?' She said 'Only on Sundays' and the result was 'they went
hopping off into their burrow'. Well, Cathy's reading of what her complete
story would have been, had the papers not been passed round, was rather a
bombshell. She said eagerly 'Mr Ford met Mrs Ford, He said 'will you marry me?'
She said 'Yes' and the result is that now they don't live together any more'.
And Cathy's eyes quickly darted from one person to the other as if searching
for clues in the immediate reaction.
There was a short silence, my in-laws looked horrified and my mother quickly said 'Oh very clever Cathy' in a rather dry sarcastic voice. My mother never really liked Cathy as much as the other two after that. She seemed to think she was scheming and trying to stir up trouble. I think my mother was very wrong about this. It was natural Cathy should wonder about the situation. She was intelligent and had ordinary curiousity and thought it a good way to find out more. My mother always seemed to misjudge Cathy and it surprised me because usually she liked children and I think it was quite obvious to everyone that Cathy was her least favourite grandchild.
However, everyone liked Cathy's stories. My mother thought she showed amazing promise at writing. She wrote prolifically, copying the format of her early reading books at school and home. She started writing soon after she turned six and I will try now to set out some of her work, though her illustrations made the stories even funnier.
She started with an index of chapter headings:
in siad (Inside!)
Can I walck
widow
cats
peapl
neviler
toys
rades
sing
sweets
Can I walck
this is maery her mother wacks in the citchen on sunday she is cleening the cocker. dose youer mother clean? do you helq? it is nise to help. it is time for meary to play she will read. when she had finisht reading she went to bed. good by.
Once opon a time a mother lay soing in a cher. a baby popt out of her stumic. the mother barst out laghing. she called her dalter lisey lise for shot soon mother died lise groo. she looked licke this (picture) she cold not wolck she had to crole for she had no mother to teach her
Odell Nodell
Once opon a time there lived a wido and her dalter named odell nodell she groo into a fine laddy as for her mother she was ill and soon died but her dalter was maryd no cindness for odell nodell but hateres life for she had a narsty mother in lar so she ran away and can you ges whot hapend she died and met her mother
Cats
Cats are chast and they chas mise and birds and flis.
end of part one
pepil
pepil have treets and ice creem and things
neviler
once unop a time there was a gel caled neviler. she never ran for her leg had been chopt of she hopt scipt nily all the time she had only got a granmother and her granmother dide and as she had no food she was starving and died.
toys
children play with toys (illustration of teddies and dolls)
mothers notes (illustration of pages of scribble)
childrens drawing spas (blank page for drawing!)
radats
dogs chase radets and radets run away (illustration of rabbet holl)
sing
all things brit and butifall
sweets
some children eat sweets. some eat cack and mack themselvs sick
end of part 2
flower and petl
flower was cind but pettle was nasty
flowe helped with the washing.
Becos she was so ugly petl died.
Gog ber (George Bear!)
A baer sang a song larddardada
a vois siad shutup
why siad gog I whant to go to sleep
we do to said a whol lode of picses and firys.
This is only a small selection. The stories became a little less gory as she neared seven and became more conventional, stories about shopping and birthday treats but she certainly produced a large amount of writing in that year between six and seven.
It's strange how different children are in their attitudes to being told about the birds and the bees. When Jennifer was about seven or eight I had tried to make sure she knew some of the relevant facts of life and about growing up. She said to me 'Please can we stop talking about this now'. Cathy however was wildly interested in everything even vaguely connected with the idea of sex and babies.
From the age of about six, it used to worry me that she would discuss these matters with the other children at school who would in turn repeat it to their parents, who might be shocked or think that Cathy had very strange parents who might have fostered this obsessional enthusiasm. She already seemed to know about homosexuality - gay and lesbian, masturbation, abortion, miscarriage, incest and almost anything else you care to name but was always avid to learn more. She asked me what would happen if a person had sex with a dog! I was adamant and said it was quite impossible and tried to forget the joke I had heard about a Middle Eastern shepherd and his sheep. Bestiality was going too far.
One day, a few years later, when I fetched her from the Woodcraft Folk, I was about 10 minutes late and she was waiting by the gate of the church hall in her school dress and little white socks and sandals with her school bag by her side. She was cross that I was late and said that a man across the road had been looking at her. 'I bet he thought I was a prostitute' she said angrily. 'No, I really don't think so', I replied soothingly, trying not to smile.
But getting back to my father's visit, the New Year of 1978 came and went and my father had booked a flight to Johannesburg leaving on 11th January. He had arrived the previous autumn on the very last mailboat. So this was to be his first flight and he was a little anxious. My mother said that as my father was leaving so soon, I should spend as much time as possible with him, and so we went on several outings on my days off and at weekends.
The weather of course was extremely cold and John lent my father a thick woollen scarf and he also had a warm lined heavy raincoat and a cap. Its strange that my last memories of my father should be dressed this way as most of his life he had worn short sleeved shirts and khaki shorts. One day we caught the new train running from Moorgate to Hertford as I had never been to Hertford. It was a bleak day and Hertford did not seem a very exciting place. I took a photo of my father standing in the doorway of the train to commemorate the day. Another day we went to Kingston on Thames and walked along the river to Hampton Court. I had a map to guide us but it was still a very long and sometimes muddy walk through fields as well as along the towpath. Eventually we came to the Long Water which leads to the back of the palace. I made my father walk ahead and took a photo of him disappearing into the grey mist. He loved Hampton Court and we did the guided tour of the palace and then had lunch.
I had never flown anywhere either so going to Heathrow to see him off was quite an adventure. He seemed quite happy as he was looking forward to being in the sunshine again. But he was also quite excited as the first snow of the year fell that day. We were safely and warmly inside the terminal but at least he saw snow for the first and only time in his life. We were both greenhorns about procedures at the airport and after we had lunch there, he had to go through to Passport Control and they said I could go no further with him. I wondered what happened when he passed the barrier and the last thing I ever said to him was 'Let me know what it's like on the other side'.
We expected to hear from him in about five days' time. That was about the usual length of time for an airletter between South Africa and England. On about the 15th January, I fetched my photographs from the chemist and opened them while alone. When I saw the photo of my father on the Hertford train, it gave me a horrible feeling in my stomach. He looked so ill, I had never realised this when we were out together on the day it was taken. There was a sore on his mouth and his complexion was poor and he seemed to be stooping more than I remembered. The photograph taken as he walked to Hampton Court was depressing too. He looked so old and tired, disappearing into the mist. I hid those two photos and only showed the family various views and scenes.