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16 Apr 2021 -
Betrayal - 9 Martival, Leicester

Written by Jules
Apr 16, 2021, 09:12 PM
Views: 364
Rating: 0 (Rates: 0)


Ronnie and I were standing in our front garden, every now and again getting out of the way of the men who were helping the old man carry furniture out of our house and put it into a van.
Ronnie was about eight; I was six.

 
Maisie was in the house. I knew that as I could hear her raised voice. She was shouting something at the old man. Young as I was I knew something was wrong, very wrong. I remember thinking mam would know what to do but she was at work; so was ‘our Teddy’. I didn’t know where Mabel was but she certainly wasn’t at home because the men had just put her bed in the van. Chairs, tables, linoleum and rugs - I wanted to ask but daren’t.

 
Looking at Ron’s face I knew he was near to tears, so was I, but I didn’t know why. The van was nearly loaded with our home. I started to cry and the old man gave me and Ronny a penny but it didn’t placate us. He told us to be quiet and looked furtively up and down the street.

 

Window curtains around the houses were beginning to twitch; we were being watched. We gripped the pennies tightly. We didn’t know it then but it really was ‘hush money’, our pay-off, all that our lives and future was to become, a penny, whilst he took away our home and the roof over our heads, leaving us defenceless. Judas sold a man for 30 pieces of silver; my family, less the old man, went for tuppence.




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Jules registered at Leicester, Born and Raised. on Jul 16, 2020, 06:07 PM and has posted 1 posts in the boards since then. Last visit was Aug 25, 2023, 09:36 AM.

16 Apr 2021 -
Life with the ‘old man’ – 9 Martival, Leicester

Written by Jules
Apr 16, 2021, 02:50 PM
Views: 371
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Life with the ‘old man’ – 9 Martival, Leicester


Things at home, unfortunately, were going downhill fast. When they did go out together, the old man would have too much to drink and then the accusations would fly thick and fast. Any man in the near vicinity, be he eight or eighty, would be accused of ‘standing in with my old woman.’
Denial of such patently untrue accusations only made matters worse. Blood had to flow, and when a certain point was reached ‘BANG’, it flowed. The neighbours soon learned to keep out of it and the only sign of their involvement was the twitching of a front room curtain when the level of noise from our house had reached a certain pitch or the shadow of someone with a little more courage than the rest, flitting down the street to fetch the police.
Yet, we had more going for us than most in the area; if only that mad so and so of a father had been able to control his rages and jealous nature. As an elastic weaver the old man was rarely on short time and mam had a good job in a shoe factory and put all her earnings into the house. Our home furnishings were the best in the district. Mam was spotlessly clean and set us the same standards. We were all toilet trained well before the average age and were polite. School was a must, no excuses accepted, and each in turn was warned that any punishment at school would bring more when we got home. We rarely squabbled among ourselves and that was understandable as our parents did enough of that for the lot of us


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Jules registered at Leicester, Born and Raised. on Jul 16, 2020, 06:07 PM and has posted 1 posts in the boards since then. Last visit was Aug 25, 2023, 09:36 AM.

13 Apr 2021 -
MORE MEMORIES FROM NORMAN HASTINGS (Circa 1933)

Written by Jules
Apr 13, 2021, 12:50 PM
Views: 394
Rating: (Rates: 1)

MORE MEMORIES FROM NORMAN HASTINGS (Circa 1933)
Septic spots and tonsils:
It must have been about this time I began to develop septic spots on my heels. Why this complaint came to plague me I don’t know, for unlike many kids around me at that time I never had to wear shoes that were too small or hand me downs.
Anyway, mam would spot I was hobbling around and the small red blemish would, within a matter of hours, change into a large blister full of fluid, with a clear red line extending from it, up the leg and into the groin. My temperature would rise and, with no time wasted, I was whipped down to the Leicester Royal Infirmary ‘out patients dept.’
What I knew was to happen next, filled me with dread. We would go into a large, waiting room with a high ceiling and sit on one of the long oak forms, highly polished by the numerous bottoms that had slid along it as the queue ‘otched’ along. The walls were tiled in aseptic thick green tiles and the room reeked of a particular orange coloured paste or unction universally used and liberally spread, or so it seemed, on everything from a dog bite to a boil on the bum.
In the background was the hissing of the sterilisers and the steam that arose whenever the stainless steel lid was lifted by the seemingly, always on the run, nurses, supervised by Sister, with her lace cap buckled under her chin and silver belt buckle twinkling. Lady of all, she surveyed, always with a kind word for the children but seeming to me never to meet the gaze of the accompanying mums.


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Jules registered at Leicester, Born and Raised. on Jul 16, 2020, 06:07 PM and has posted 1 posts in the boards since then. Last visit was Aug 25, 2023, 09:36 AM.

MORE MEMORIES FROM NORMAN HASTINGS circa 1966 (The Leicester Boardman)

Written by Jules
Views: 557
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New arrivals from Scotland

It was my ‘pick up’ day and I went into my Senior Boys’ school secretary’s office to collect those visits which had to be done. The school building was old Victorian, gloomy & forbidding from the outside but inside clean, friendly and warm.

The boys (and I always thought of them as ‘my boys’) were a mixture of races who shared a disciplined and caring friendliness. They were chatty but never cheeky to me, and this friendly approach was extended to any visitor to their school, whatever their business. Without being asked these boys would go up to any stranger wandering lost within the building and, after asking who it was the visitor had come to see, would escort them to their destination. Now, if this sounds normal for a school in England then just remember that most of these boys only a year or so previously, were living in Bombay, Calcutta or even on the plains of the Punjab. Quite simply they were maintaining the traditions of courtesy and public service for which the school had been noted for over many generations.

As I walked through the musty smelling hall that cleaning never seemed to sweeten any, I was greeted as an old friend by the lads changing classes. I boast that every lad in the school knew me. It was all smiles and cries of,



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Jules registered at Leicester, Born and Raised. on Jul 16, 2020, 06:07 PM and has posted 1 posts in the boards since then. Last visit was Aug 25, 2023, 09:36 AM.
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