Updated 23/9/2010
Why am I writing all this,
As one gets closer to leaving this mortal plane one looks forever inwards. You are the
only person on this planet the rest as a famous fellow once said „but players‟. It seems
you are your closest friend and lifelong companion. Are all the other folk really there or
just part of the long dream of life. “I think therefore you are” am I a closet schizophrenic.
Anyway one likes to think one will be remembered. Authors painters film stars architects
singers and the like leave their mark on the world. Most of us can really only leave our
children and a few close friends. The friends memory of us will only last their lifetime.
In my later years I have been a little more creative after finding my niche in computer
digital engineering. My creations have found there way into a lot of folks homes. There
nature means they will be retained and looked at. I became a digital artist. This text I will
leave behind on my life along with my web site and family tree. Oh! and my children
and grandchildren…
These are hyperlinks to images to help you along, just click on them then come back via
the back key.
The Infant and Junior years. This is all that was me then.
I was born Terence Maurice Bailey on 23rd February 1948, 3 years after the end of World
War 2. My parents where, Raymond Frances Bailey , eldest son of Henry and Lily
Bailey, (ne Horder) they the children of Ebenezer and Eleanor Bailey, (ne Roberts)and
Georgina Broome, youngest daughter of George and Winifred, (ne Blanchard) Broome.
The Broome‟s were the children of James Broom (no „e‟) and Frances Maloney and
Edwin Blanchard and Frances Edsall. For the rest see my family tree.
My birth took place at Frenchay Hospital Bristol England. This is and Ancestral picture
of our family and one of my collage Creations.
I was the second eldest of three children, Malcolm Keith my older brother was born 6th
January 1947. Our younger sister Pauline Sandra born September 6th 1949.
We all lived in a council house at 83 Saltmarsh Drive, Lawrence Weston, Bristol. One of
the large post war estates built to house the “Baby Boomers following WW2.”
The estate built on a North facing hillside was bordered by the suburbs of Henbury Blaise
Castle, Shirehampton and Avonmouth where most of the early dwellers worked in the
docks area. Though abutting those suburbs Lawrence Weston was separated From
Shirehampton Henbury and also Shirehampton by Blaise Castle and Kingsweston
Woods. This woodland Grew on the peak of an escarpment that flowed downhill to the
lowlands that stretched to the river Severn. These woods often provided an endless retreat
for a growing boy. The Estate was also steeped in history having its own Roman Villa
from around 200AD. There also existed evidence of Saxon occupation.
Saltmarsh Drive was the Northernmost street on the estate and number 83 was on the
northern side. This meant that a hop over the back fence (three strands of 4mm wire) and
passing between Mr. McDonalds and Mr. Phelps Allotment you had nothing but fields,
meadows, streams, ponds and small woods until the river Severn about 3-4 miles down
the country lane.
As small boys we often gathered around a concrete pipe that carried water from under the
estate from up the escarpment . Little did we know that this stream itself was the ancient
water supply to the old Village on the site and too those Romans that lived in the area.
There were only 2-3 water supplies this one, another at the base of Kings Weston lane
and the remaining one ran near the Masons Arms Inn. In fact I remember an old pump
near the stone wall next to a phone box outside that pub. The Masons was also the place
our parents took us as children. We all sat in the outside garden on wooden benches
sipping Schweppes lemonade and Smith Crisps complete with blue salt bag.
These streams at the back of Saltmarsh formed a major part of my early memories. I
would and could leave in the early morning with some jam sandwiches and spend the
whole day, always ending within earshot of mums calls at dusk, “Terry, time for tea now”
she would say.
Walking beside those streams one would see weed like tiny clover growing over the
surface. Deeper was the grass like plants rooted in the soil base. The water was far from
cloudy but crystal clear and abundant with wildlife. Patches of clear water revealed the
tiny fish called sticklebacks I would catch and bring home in jam jars. On the surface
minute water beetles looked like dodgem cars and they had long legged insects friends
called water boatmen for company. These animals where caught with nets either home
made from wire and mums stocking or purchased complete from Burdens Iron monger.
The fish where there year round. Seasonal Tadpoles that turned into frogs filled me with
wonder and sometimes if I was lucky I caught a newt. Water rats as we called them
where actually Voles inhabited the banks and as one walked along they would dive into
the water and leave a trail of bubbles. As I grew older I ended up Hunting these tiny
creatures first with home made catapult crafted from Willow branch and ¼ inch gray
square elastic. Later it was with and 177 or .22 Diana air rifle. Those days of Hunting I
am not today proud of as Starlings sparrows and other birds also fell foul of my deadly
aim. But I would loose myself out there in those meadows.
Immediately behind our house were a few old oaks one of them was spiked with nails to
enable a clime into its upper parts. Dens where built up there and a rope made for a swing
out and onto the opposite bank. I was sometimes able to climb trees but much to the
annoyance of brother Mac was unable to get back down. My mother was always sending
the poor lad out to rescue his little brother.
Fire was another pastime. I loved fire. An old willow has balsa wood like sponge
properties as it dried out and rotted. A magnifying glass and sunshine started a glowing
ember that turns into a burning tree that would go for days. The tree incredibly would
survive and keep on growing.
Boots full of water where a hazarded of fishing and crossing these streams. My ever
patient mother would be used to getting me out of wet socks and into a hot bath. I can
remember dad carrying buckets of hot water up the stairs for our baths. Mac went first
then sister then me. The baths and sinks in England have an overflow pipe or vent in
them. The bath one went straight through the wall and out into a basin like affair on the
outside wall. The strange thing about this was that if folk where talking outside in the
garden one could hear it through the pipe. Anyway back to the streams. One of the fields
out back had an old dead oak lying on its side long bleached by sun and rain. This formed
the battlements of forts in our never ending games of cowboys and Indians. Games like
these cost nothing and some would go on for days. Sometimes a large part of the estate
would become involved dressing up their kids in feathers chaps and war paint. I would
feel great with my six gun in my holster on my right hip. My heroes where the Lone
Ranger, Superman (The Original cinema Kirk Alyn) Roy Rogers and perhaps Hopalong
Cassidy. Later, the Range Rider and Dick West. Our games cost nothing or very little,
Five stones, bows and arrows marbles hopscotch for the girls. I was not a football (soccer
bloke) when a game was on I was always last to be picked. Andrew McDonald & Dave
Johnson where the best footy Players.
There were farms over the back with pretty farm houses or cottages therein. The nearest
one also had an orchard prime for apple stealing or Knobbing apples as we called it. It
farmed dairy cattle and they were Herefords I seem to remember, large black and whites
bovines that I was never sure if I was scarred off or not. Walking across the fields one
often stepped into the cow pat and if it was fresh you spent the next 10 minutes with grass
and stream water washing it off. Saltmarsh by name and by nature, following heavy rains
the farm land out the back could flood and the streams over flow. We would sometimes
see large areas flooded. In the winter the streams would freeze and I could walk on top of
the ice to cross the expanse of water.
The long summer grasses brought chirping grasshoppers and they to found their way into
the jam jar. Another creature I had a fondness for was the Slow Worm a legless lizard
looking more like a snake it grew to perhaps a foot long with a girth of about ½ inch.
They were found under pieces of discarded corrugated roofing metal or any large flat
material. One lad would lift the object whilst another boy was ready to pounce on the
hapless animal before it slithered away at high speed. Sometimes we also disturbed a
mouse nest and they to would scurry in all directions. One of the boys that accompanied
me was Johnny Porter from across the road. The places where we found the reptiles we
named slow worm paradise. There where two, one where St Bedes school is now and the
other a very long walk to the Banks of the river Avon over the Portway at Shirehampton.
Blessed mother Georgina helped me care for all these creatures over the years as well as
innumerable baby birds, adult birds with broken wings and frogs called Freddy.
The lane that wormed its way down to the river Severn was Lawrence Weston Road. It
passed more farms on its way both dairy and grain. The farms had hay stacks in the
summer good to try and climb Along its sides where more streams to explore and
Blackberry bushes heavy with fruit in the spring. The whole family armed with bowls
and buckets would harvest the berries and mum would add a „cooks‟ or „Banbury‟ apple
and make heavenly fruit pie with birds custard. An hour or so walk east and over a
railway line brought you to Blue Bell Wood. A hill with a wood on top, the grass before
the tree line was at times covered with the gently swaying flowers of its name.
Although close to the River Severn it was only on a few occasions that I made the trek
down the lane. I think it was because it was a depressing and bleak place. The tide was
rarely in and the Severn is renowned for its vast tidal movement. One could look across
at Newport in Wales and not see any water at all. Just the endless gray slimy mud. I made
a few attempts to fish there to no avail. The road that formed the „T‟ junction was St
Andrews road coming from the left was Avonmouth it continued to the right on through
to Severn Beach. This was a resort village in the Fifties with pool and pebble beach and
now the approach to the old Severn Bridge across to Wales.
Also living on the estate where a number of relatives. My mothers brother Jack lived
with his wife Ann and three later to be four children Tulla June Ester and late arrival
George in Commonfield Road. This street was just below Awdlett close inhabited by the
Pincent family and Marlene Gilbert later to be my bride. In Saltmarsh Drive for a while
was Jacks younger brother Percy wife (well I‟ll be damned) Barbara (Babs)ne (Ford) and
brood Jenny, Susan, David later came Christine and in Australia Lisa and Andy. These
where all Broomes from my mothers side. There where also some Baileys as just up the
street was my fathers first cousin Philip wife Lily and daughters Margaret and Barbara.
They still live in that house today, Philip and Lily that is the girls and later son have
moved on. though Margaret is still on the estate in Broadlands Drive. Along the end of
Long Cross the main road through Lawrence Weston and looking at the Roman Villa was
my fathers sister Peggy. We had very little contact with my fathers side of the family.
They haled from another council estate called Southmead other brothers and sisters being
Ken, Mary, Peggy, Hilda and Fred being father the eldest.
Uncle Percy and Babs with kids later moved to one of two addresses in the Henbury
estate just past Blaise Castle. First to Marrisal Road next to Henbury School and later to I
think Northover Close. There where three other sisters older than my mother Frances the
first born first married to Jack Pike( later Tom Williamson) lived in Lakewood Crescent
Henleaze. Followed by Florrie married to Frank Meadows lived in 24 Kingsholm Road
Horfield. Florrie took over the Broome home following the death of Grandmother
Winifred (Blanchard) Broome. The patriarch George died many years earlier. The next
sister Kathleen and Husband Norman Bush were in the RAF so little seen by the civilian
Broomes. The cousins of the above where oldest cousin Michael and his sister Diane
children of Frances and Jack Pike. John was the son of Florrie and Frank and Nicky
Norma and Bob the children of Kathleen and Norman. Uncle Frank was in the merchant
navy so he too was away quite a lot. His home was filled with lots of artifacts from
overseas trips to exotic places. Camels, elephants and things to mystify young minds.
Cousin Diane mixed with us a little in the early years, she looked on us I think in a
motherly way being the oldest. Her brother Michael I do not remember at all. He later in
life moved to America and only in the early 2000‟s was killed in a motor accident. Diane
would to take us to Shirehampton pool with its strong chlorine smell. I was closest to the
children of Jack and Percy as we where estate kids. Whilst our parents visited and chatted
about adult things we played with each other in fields, the street, the back yard or in our
rooms. Rarely bored or demanding of money to sate our appetite. Though when an Aunt
or Uncle chucked thrupence our way it was up to perhaps Measons the Sweet shop, or the
off license at the English Rose public house for goodies. Sherbet Fountains from
Bassetts, Spangles, smarties, Talm Toffee, (ruined my teeth) Five Boys chocolate, Black
Jacks. Verrechia‟s was the ice cream van that came around with Walls ice cream. Ninety
Niners with a flake in it.
Before I forget, other vehicles that called into the street in those early years where, the
Fish and Chip man with fragrances to die for and a chimney that belched steam from the
fryer. The rag and bone man sometimes with horse and cart to swap your rags for
goldfish in a bowl. An Iron Monger van with brushes and stuff. A knife sharpener and
the council waste pump truck. This large tanker was equipped with long hose on a swivel
pipe. The reason for its presence a few times a year was when the street drain outside of
Mrs Lilies up the street would block and flood the street. It would suck out all the twigs‟n
putrid mucky stuff much to the joy of little boys. Other visitors where the garbage men
with half curved top truck with sliding doors. The coal man carried six or eight sacks one
at a time on his back on top of a leather back apron. They tramped down the little covered
alley between the house and the outhouses tool shed, coal shed and outside toilet. The
milkman came with electric humming and whining Float the baker in a conventional
petrol engine van.
The rent man would also call in the early days and sometimes when money was very
short we would have to hide and pretend we where out. To further stretch the „pennies‟
we would file the half pennies. A half penny or copper happeny piece coin was about
one millimeter wider than the silver shilling used in the electric and gas meter. One place
coin into slot and rotated dial thingy till it dropped into a cash box. Dad had us filing
down Half pennies on the back concrete step until it fitted the slot.
1953 was coronation year and the whole estate and Bristol Centre was decorated and
every home had a coronation mug. The center of the city housed a large crown.
The estate in those days was a joy. Everything was newly built and most of the folk
where young with young families. Houses where still being built and it seems there was
always the smell of paint in the air. Half way along Saltmarsh was an area used to house
the raw materials for building. Mostly road base, bricks and sand. There where workmen
with a coke fueled brazier fire in an oil drum to chat to. Tractors and earth moving
vehicles with caterpillar tracks. Cute where the little dumpster trucks rear wheel steered
with small tip able bucket on the front. The compound as it was known was between the
houses and Longcross. There are new houses there today. Just in the stretch of road along
the edge of Longcross was a police phone box. Blue in Colour just like the ones in Dixon
of Dock Green with Jack Warner from the Fifties and sixties. Our neighbors back then
where on either side of us The Horans Mum Dad and Kids Bridget, Josie and John at
number 81. In 85 was the McDonalds Angela and Andrew with Mr & Mrs Mac. 87 The
Phelps(who had his own business painting and putting up posters) had two boys
Raymond who stuttered and John. Before the gap with service road was Molly Moor, Mr
Moor and Kids Gordon who used to beat me up every week till I fought back at aged 12
and he backed down. Another Moors where daughters Susan and Margaret. Others in the
Street where Mrs Hampton, Mrs Lily by the Lane, The Johnsons with son David and
Daughter Janet. Councilor O‟Neil and family. These where on our side. Crossing the road
The Franklins with son Roger we became mates in our teenage years though he a few
years older than I. He now runs hairdressing shop in Sea Mills. The Rickets, Sullivans,
Workmans later replaced by Porters, Truemans with Son Jeffery and daughter Janet,
Mostyns (who had Haberdashery shop in Ridingleaze), Bloke who was petrol tanker
driver for Fina Fuel. The Fentons or McAullifs Irish family consisting of John, Seamus
(Jimmy) and daughters?. I had run in with the family in my self righteous days that was
really my fault. The only ones I still remember left are the Dickens. No…more coming
the Blacks and another family though not related called Franklin. Saltmarsh Drive was
split into two layers the Upper part lower numbers and us down the sloop. Only ones up
top where Uncle Phillip Bailey and family across the road a bloke called Dave was mates
with in teens. And when very young first little girl friend Sheila Miller? I think.
Another pastime to mention before it slips my mind. In front of the Shops in Ridinglease
was a widening of the road to enable buses (green Bristol double Decker‟s) to turn
around. It was known as the laybye. At times us boys or just myself would grab an
exercise book and jot down the registration numbers of all the cars trucks and buses that
passed. Why I really do not know. If an book contained 30 pages we would go off the
idea half way down page three. Other street games where marbles and hopscotch for the
girls. Conkers was a major pastime when in season. The reason for this was because we
used the nut from the Horse chestnut tree or Conker. An almost perfectly round nut that
was drilled through the middle, threaded with string so hung pendulum wise. The object
then was to swing your nut to hit opponents hanging still nut till it smashed. Your nut
each time it smashed another nut scored a point. Proud was the lad with a sixer. We
employed various methods to strengthen our Conkers, soaking in Vinegar or baking to
name a few.
The Conker season also meant that the leaves of its parent tree where falling due to being
Autumn. The base of the tree could at times be knee deep in these beautiful soft leaves.
The nut itself was encased in a prickly outer cover that more often than not already had a
split in it.
The winters were cold in Lawrence Weston, but the cold that was the curse of adults
brought a new joy to the young. As already mentioned the streams would freeze over so
that one could walk or skate on them. The pavements carried a thick layer of frost that
also provided a 3-4 kilometer ice rink all the way to school. If it snowed then snowmen,
ice castles and snowball fights where fun, As I have often told my children in frosty times
I can remember to look out of my bedroom window to see if it had snowed first one had
to scrape the frost of the „inside of the glass‟. The problems it gave adults were frozen
water pipes, toilets and car radiators. Heating bills where also large. We had coal fires for
the living room and who could forget the smell of the old Valor kerosene/paraffin heater
in the kitchen. This was a round pedestal type affair flat on the top for putting the kettle
on. How the house never burnt down at times bewilders me.
83 Saltmarsh was a largish house. On entering the front door one came into a hall way.
First door to the right lead to the lounge room or front room. To the left of entranceway
was a single flight of stairs going up to the three bedrooms and toilet-bathroom. Straight
ahead was a door leading to the kitchen. Entering this room one saw a door on left to the
alley way separating the three outhouses tool shed, coal house and outside toilet. Back to
the kitchen the council provided a gas oven with little gas torch on the side with button
on top to light other rings from an already lit one. The kitchen window looked out on the
back garden. Another door to the right of the kitchen lead to the dinning room that also
had a rear facing window. The dinning room and front room where separated by two
large French window type doors with frosted opaque glass. These where left open most
of the time so that with all doors open the kids could chase each other round and round
the lower house and drive poor mum and dad mad. To the left of the oven was a food
cupboard or larder. The 3 outhouses were well used. Between the outside toilet and coal
house wall was a recess. This housed in many cases the „boiler‟ a large copper inside gas
powered galvanized steel outside vessel for boiling clothes. The precursor of the washing
machine one also had a well used baseball bat like stick used to poke and swirl the
washing. This stick itself was constantly „boiled‟ so took on a strange smooth sticky feel.
We played with the boiler stick as kids and mum sat us in the boiler full of cool water in
the summer. A mangle was a gadget with two rollers used to squeeze the water from the
clothes. It was a manual devices with handle and gears to facilitate the action. Mum was
thrilled when finally she obtained from the Co-Op her first „Twin Tub Hoover washing
machine.
Up the stairs led to four doors. Straight at the top was the bathroom and toilet. Bath on
the right with cord dangling from the ceiling to operate the light. Sink with plumbing
showing underneath in center and toilet pan on the left. A frosted window looked out
onto the concrete flat roof covering ours and the neighbors (the Horans) outhouses. The
other doors lead to first our room that is brothers Macs and my bedroom. A large room
looking down onto the rear garden and across the open farmland. Next came our parents
room with windows to the front street. Tucked on the end came sister Pauline‟s room also
known as the ‟box room‟. A small room that had an oddly shaped cupboard due to the
fact that its back wall was at an angle as it formed the ceiling over the stair well. Her
window also looked down over the street.
The houses where heated with as said coal and later coke a more modern burnable fossil
fuel that did not emit such smoke. The chimney at time of coarse needed cleaning or
sweeping and this was the job of the Chimney sweep. A dark sooty man with collection a
long extendable via bamboo rod brushes. We would all wait outside as he extended
brushes by adding rods until it popped out of the top with a cloud of soot. If you could
not afford to have the chimney swept it eventually caught fire in the flue. These coal fires
contributed to the renowned and feared „smog‟s of the fifties and early sixties. The coal
tar smoke combined with low cloud on still days to form a yellow smelly thick true fog
that blanketed parts of the city. It also was responsible for the deaths of the frail and
elderly. Visibility was truly down to not being able to see ones hand in front of your face.
The front garden was mums joy with Rhododendron, wall flowers, and chrysanthemum.
In the rear dad from time to time tried vegetables, potatoes, runner beans and peas. I seem
also to remember some raspberries and definitely black currants. Later the large part was
turned to grass. In the center of the lawn just before we left for Australia I planted an
apple tree.
It took about 4-5 minutes to walk up to the strip of shops in Ridingleaze being the name
of the road they were placed. Again all of the businesses where new with clean glass and
fresh paint and fittings. I have always prided myself on being able to name them in order
left to right.
First came The Co-Op the largest on the strip. It was a food department type store on the
left with carpet lino, furniture and electrical appliances. The right hand section was a mini
market with food stuffs. Next was Ivor Gadd grocer. Ivor had lost a thumb or finger and
he served his customers the fruit and veg, no self selection in those days. Next came
Measons? The sweet shop the kids favorite with Spangles, Black Jacks, aniseed balls,
Birds Toffees, Bassetss sherbet Fountains. It was also a tobacconist in the days of
respectable smoking. Witts the bakers with Marshmallow filled ice cream cone cake and
choc topping. Hardings the Butcher then perhaps Mostyn‟s haberdashery. Always going
to this shop for mums wool. Pearks the general food store with rows of biscuit tins along
the front. Rogers and Harris might be next the second grocer in the strip. Boots the
Chemist followed with friends father Mr Rothwell as the Pharmacist. Next maybe the
Newsagent whose name escapes me but it also housed the Post Office in those days. It
also had my Beano, Dandy, Eagle, Superman and other comics that started my love of
reading.
There was another general food store in the strip being Maypole and was around this
position. On the end was Burdens the Ironmonger. General hardware and combined toy
shop. A road way service lane to the back of the shops came next then open grassland.
Later more shops where built on the site. Over the top of the shops where flats occupied
by some of the store holders.
It seemed that our lives were simple then. In the early years we had no television. We
would listen to the radio and watch the fire. Yes staring in to the flaming or glowing
embers and coals of the fire is very relaxing. On the radio there was children‟s hour with
Daphne Oxenford telling stories and singing. More grown up was Educating Archy with
ventriloquist Peter Brough and Beryl Reid. Billy Bunter(Edmond Campion) at Grey
Friers, Whacko with Professor Jimmy Edwards. The Clithero Kid. Later Tony Hancock
and Sid James, Around the Horn with Kenneth Horn and Kenneth Williams and the Navy
Lark with Leslie Phillips and Jon Pertwee. Forces Requests became family favorites a
tune song request program for the separated families I remember Bill Paul was in
Toronto. Music while you work, Arthur Asky, Ted Ray, Billy Cotton Band Show,
Wilfred Pickles and Mable all names from the fifties. Also the radio series of Simon
Templer as the Saint. Lost in Space. Quatermass, A quiz program was Animal Vegetable
or Mineral where a guest panel tried to guess an object buy asking simple short questions.
Each item was introduced buy a deep voice saying “ Item number four is a potato, a
potato” the host would then say the item is Vegetable Isabel Barnett would say “can you
eat it” and off they went.
The first television in Saltmarsh Drive I think went into the O‟Neils house and one day
their lounge room was filled with the kids of the street looking at Peter Butterworth in a
kiddies program.Yes television did arrive and with it The Flower Pot men, Muffin the
Mule with Annette Mills, The Wooden Tops, Andy Pandy, Sooty with Ronny Corbet. We
where never glued to television. Most of our time was still outside playing.
Our Ancestors.
The Baileys it seems came from the Hampshire area much the same as the Blanchards.
There is a Bailey green in Dorset. Detail on the Bailey/Grover is on the Genealogy page
in the Web site. The Roberts family came from London and where engravers, our
Matriarch, Eleanor, wife of Ebenezer I have dim memory of visiting in Clifton Bristol
when very young. Our Baileys and Grandfather Henry and Lilian hailed from Southmead.
As said the Blanchards were from Blandford in Dorset. One of my Grandmother
Winifreds brothers Percy was mayor of Southampton. Her husband George Broom later
Broome came from London but the family started in Dudley Port Staffordshire.
Those where the days when Grandparents were rare. I never knew George or Winefred.
But Henry Bailey brought me a pop gun from Woolworths in Southmead.
My first school was Weston Park Infants located in Lawrence Weston where Lawrence
Weston school is now in Style Acres. A very dim view of a painting class with lots of
jam jars in all that remains. My mothers family were Catholics and nuns visited us to
inform mum of the opening of the new school to be called “Our Lady of the Rosary” so
of went the Bailey brood to learn Latin as well as math‟s English and Geography. Sisters
Ethelphredes and Angelina long remain in my memory. The headmaster Mr Miller
presided over Mr Sudbury and others. There where also visiting teaching priests like
father Supple and father Murphy. Long term friend Patrick Berry from Henbury was met
as well as the likes of John Riley. My first little sweet heart Marilyn Lewis also hailing
from Henbury stole my heart when I was about just 9 or ten. She was a little minx. Her
father rode a BSA or Sunbeam and picked me up from home and took me to Henbury.
Other times I rode my little bike there or caught the bus. I must have been quite smitten.
I remember she took me into possibly her bedroom and taught me how to kiss, I mean
wow….
We went to church on Sundays following Confession on Saturday. Our first Communion
was a grand affair with white shirts and sash for the boys and what looked like mini
brides outfits for the girls. I tried being an alter boy for a few weeks that did not last.
Neither did the Scouts or Cubs. At times in church I would help sister Aegina by
pumping the organ as she played. Our father was out of it all as he followed no religion.
Dad worked in Avonmouth at Millers. Uncle Jack and Percy worked at Phil Black a
carbon manufacturing plant for rubber. The whole of the estate knew when it was 1pm as
a hooter went of for a shift change that could be heard for miles. We where not far away
from Filton the site of the Aircraft manufacturing site. BAC or British Aircraft
manufacturing later to become Rolls Royce. The Falcon, Vulcan, Brabizan, Harrier
vertical take off and Later the Concord all made there. Overhead was commonly filled
with the sound of testing airplanes. Dad also worked for a time as a conductor on the
Buses. Those wonderful Bristol Built vehicles that rattled along in there green bodies and
large external chrome headlights.
When we were ill or sick with the flu or measles or chicken pox or any of those things
that prevailed in the times, we went to bed. Sometimes for a week at a time if not more.
Yes at the start we where unwell so was glad of the sleep. The doctor was called as was
usually that wonderful Dr Tarlton from up on Longcross on the way to Henbury. With his
leather bag and stethoscope he evoked a feeling of trust and competence. He said things
like, “a week in bed then week to recover, then back to school or what ever” The worst
thing was he would write a prescription for foul tasting medicines that came as a liquid in
a bottle. Complete with screw cap or even a cork it was like milk at the bottom and
opaque water at the top. The instructions where to shake well before use and take a
teaspoon after meals three times a day. The shaking was to distribute the content of the
bottle into the media as it settled into its layered condition in storage. Liquids were called
“The Medicine” on the bottle, tablets were called, “The Tablets” but if you had sore
throats one sucked on pink lozenges called “The Lozenge” good eh!. Mother Georgina
was the best nurse in the whole world, well she was a professional nurse as well. She
would go up to the shops and bring back “goodies”, A packet of 4 ounces of jelly babies,
and a Beano or Dandy or Eagle comic. As I grew older it became Superman or
something. Bless her, nothing was like to touch of mums hand on a fevered brow.
Her cooking was also great with hearty soups like „pea and ham‟. The whole house
smelling like heaven with boiling ham bones and lentils softening in hot water.
The School Years
There comes a time when all fairies and pixies must join the real world. Oh what a
wonderful thing it might be if we could remain a child forever. I believe that we are all
really still children or would love to be. For is not an adult just a child with more
responsibility. Famous authors like James Barry with „Peter Pan‟ and Lewis Carrols „
Alice in Wonderland‟ and „ „Through the Looking glass‟ surely echoed my sentiments.
The first step towards an adult word and modern social thinking is formal schooling.
Though raised as a Roman Catholic I started school at Weston park Infants in Lawrence
Weston. The entrance was in Broadlands drive. The School later became known as
Lawrence Weston School. Weston Park moved to a new and current site whence LWS
became established in about 1961. I was not still at the school in 1961 but had “returned
to my faith‟ so to speak in 1955 when the first Catholic School opened on the estate.
A vague memory of nuns in the street calling into various homes to inform the occupants
of the opening of a brand new school.
Our Lady of the Rosary with care taking order of nuns the „ Sisters Servants of the Holy
Ghost’ .
Our Lady of the Rosary School was about a 15-20 minute walk from number 83. In the
days before child abuse and pedophilia concerns we from a young age found our way
there and home again. We came home at lunch time for a snack then returning for the
afternoon session. The school being a teaching base for the nuns introduced us to
religion. Mass on Sundays, catechism and religious instruction interwoven with the
reading, writing and arithmetic. Brother Mac and younger sister also attended. My
mother Georgina also became involved as a teachers aid at one stage. She was for a short
time also a Brown Owel for the Girl Guides. One of her close friends at the time was
Eileen Airs one of the teachers. The school still stands today and I think that it has not
changed in outward appearances over the past some 50 plus years.
At age 11 came the time to grow up and serious studies to begin. The 11plus was the
name given to the exam taken to gain either a grammar or lower secondary school
education. Brother Mac passed and went on to St Brendan‟s college at Brislington. This
school on the southern outskirts of Bristol almost before Bath was again a teaching
establishment. Hear the clergy where brothers of the order of St Brendan ergo the name.
I being a dreamer and just plain lazy (Terence could do better) failed and went on to “St
Thomas Moore RC secondary school off Muller Road and into Stotbury Road Horfield.
This school unlike Our Lady of the Rosary changed in structure over the years with
additions and extensions. Sadly it is no more being replaced totally in about 2007/8 by
what is now known as Fairfield High School on the same site.
This school like St Brendans was a long way from Lawrence Weston. At the beginning
we were taken there by a coach from the Rose coach company. We boarded at about 8am
out side of the Co-op shop in Ridingleaze. Local kids all together like neighbor Bridget
Horan with John Riley from up in Broadlands Drive. John was another of the students
from Our Lady. It made a stop near the Salutation Hotel in Blaise Castle to pick up a few
more including long friend from Our Lady Patrick Berry. The coach off loaded the
children at the school gates where we walked around the school, to the Playground to
await the ringing of the bell heralding the start of school.
St Thomas Moore has fond memories held still today. The first headmaster was Mr
Mitchel shortish and a little plump in stature with a quick temper and slashing thin cane.
The latter implement I felt to my pain several time over the coming years. The assistant
headmaster was Mr Murphy who also was one of the history teachers. Mathematics
teachers where Misters Silverton, a forgotten Malaysian guy and Mortimer who also
taught French and drove a Metropolitan car, Mortimer came from Our Lady of the
Rosary and Later went on to teach at St Bedes in Lawrence Weston. My first class
teacher was Mrs Cunningham who shared English with Mr Danial Cox senior. He was
tagged senior because his younger brother was the Geography master known as Mr A
Cox or Tony. Mr Morgan was one of the PE masters Alistair Parry the other. Mr Parry
later married the delightful Miss Thompson. Mrs. Walsh who drove a little Isetta Bubble
Car was I think another English teacher and Head Mistress. Mr Mitchel was later
replaced by the stern and tall Mr Monahan (Ford Pilot) he of the perpetual Mortarboard
attire. Always the source of sniggers was Mr Everards art class. I have never been a
trades man. Through life I have done my share of carpentry, metalworking, auto
mechanics, landscaping, decorating including painting and wallpapering but as often
commented by my wife in later years, so and so does or did his a lot better. Well the
reason for this comments is that Mr Moor and Mr Hall taught Metal Work and
Woodwork respectively. You guessed it I failed in all aspects. I made a „try square‟ in
metalwork. Now this being a precision instrument is supposed to be the basis of a perfect
right angle. All right angles made from my device resulted in about an angle of 82
degrees. Mr Moor made a necklace out of it and I was forced to wear it for a week as an
example of precision engineering.
The school was place on the brow of a hill. Across the road and a little down Muller
Road where the playing fields. Sport as mentioned before was another of my very weak
points. I was always one of the tallest in the school, gangly and awkward. They thought
that with long legs I should be a runner but the short kids always left me far behind. We
used to go on cross country runs. Just across Muller road is vast green areas known as
Purdown. It stretches for miles through to Snuff Mills. I hated cross country as well. If
one forgot your gym gear they dressed you on baggy green knickers. To be seen by the
girls in this attire was most embarrassing.
This school also brought me to meet some good pals with which to share many a time.
Patrick Berry (Cynthia) and I became closer, Michael Higgins was second as a school
chum. He was from Iron Acton and often came to visit me in Lawrence Weston, along
way to come on the bus. I too reciprocated by going to his home. Eneo (Ernie) Candido
and Patrick Hope (Mr. Woo) joined our Enid Blyton type gang. Perhaps we should have
been called the ”Infamous Five”. Patrick in our later years at the school had an Aunt
Margaret who lived across Purdown not far from the school. At lunch times we often
went there as she seemed to dote on us school boys. Patrick was a natural with a Guitar
wher as I along with sport and handyman stuff was hopeless. But I to had the instrument.
I would carry it around just to impress the girls and try to play a few tunes. I would
struggle through “Beautiful Dreamer” and “Little Brown Jug” hopelessly out of key and
tune. I could also do the opening few notes of “House of the Rising Sun” and “Peter
Gun”. We would think that tomorrow we would all be like the wonderful Hank Marvin
from the Shadows and play “Apache” .
To be continued….