Part 1

Chapter 1

Fragments of Early Memories

I cannot remember much of my life before the age of seven; come to think of it, not much before the age of twelve, however this chapter reaches to about 1918 when I was four.

Apparently I was born on 3rd July 1914 at 16, Swanfield Road, Whitstable. I didn’t know anything about it but I expect that my mother did. She never did tell me whether or not I was wanted but I have always assumed that I was.

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Chapter 2

It is said that a person's character is formed by the age of five and that their surroundings during the formative years affect them for the rest of their lives.  If this is so, what a shame that most of it is forgotten.  All I have are vague recollections of hammers, nails, beetles, chickens and very little else.

If memories were more precise, it would be possible to use them as a way of doing a better job of bringing up one's own children; surely, at least the elder child would gain.  As it is, I believe that most parents, including me, expect more of their first child when they are very young than should be reasonably expected.  Discipline is harsher, chiefly because parents are ignorant and afraid of their first born turning into a hooligan.  The second child comes along and is treated much more sensibly and with greater tolerance.  By this time, parents know better and, in any case, are so occupied with two or more children, that they settle down to bring up the family in a much more expansive way.

I believe also that the first child is the unwitting subject of a change in married life and the cause of a change in the marriage.  From two people totally preoccupied with one another, sex at any time and anywhere (although I always thought that bed was the most comfortable, if not the most exciting) there is suddenly a third. Life must change.  The mother gets too preoccupied and the father can often resent this.  What a shame that we are unable to remember how our own parents tackled these problems.

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Chapter 3

We moved to Canterbury when I was four. It must have been the Autumn because the lodgings we had for a short time had a huge Horse Chestnut tree in the back yard and, when we moved in, the tree was absolutely full of "conkers". This was just after the war ended and I believe that my Father had now rejoined the Army in the Royal Army Pay Corps, obviously as a noncombatant. We soon moved houses to 65 Union Street, a working class area with a curious mixture of people. Here we stayed until the Autumn of 1926 when I was twelve. The most vivid memory of this time was of all the transport used by the British Army passing our house on its way home. Lorries, tanks, cars, motor cycles, horses, carts and drays were amongst the traffic. This cavalcade went on day in day out for a year. When the last one had passed, Union Street, by now a worn out remnant of its former self, was dug up and remade with concrete. The only memory I have of this was of a workman who used to get the other men on the job to dig, if possible, as quickly as he could. It was a sort of race, presumably to break down the monotony; they tried, but he always won. I remember him looking in our window one day when I was singing at the top of my voice. I was actually playing Patience and when I was winning, I used to sing loudly however when not, I used to produce a sad sounding dirge. I remember the tune but not the name. I must have been fairly sensitive in those days, particularly where food was concerned. My Father used to mash up my sister's dinner into a mixed up mess and then draw lines across it with the back of a fork. Of course she was virtually a baby but I thought it repugnant. One day my Mother dropped some fat onto our cat; fortunately the cat was not hurt but the look of it turned my stomach and for years, as a consequence, I could not stand people using the word "fat" in conversation.

Mum, Dad, Betty & Me  Abt. 1918

It was rather unfortunate that one day, whilst at dinner, when I was about five, a TB gland in my neck burst as a result of which I was rushed off to The Kent and Canterbury Hospital where I had an operation to remove the gland. I cannot remember much about my time in the hospital except that, for some reason, I wouldn't have anything to do with my poor Dad and so it was of no use him coming to visit. There were two smashing Rocking Horses and when I was allowed out of bed, I spent some happy hours playing on them. The only other memories of the hospital were of a ball being thrown over the balcony and a poor child with a 'hare lip'. The gland incident had a far reaching effect however. My Mother, who was convinced that, as her mother had died of TB, and because I had a TB gland, I too would develop the same disease. In view of this, I was deemed to be "delicate" and duly marched off to the TB specialist every six months. He stoically maintained that I would become a Grandfather. I was, however, kept away from school for three months over a couple of years. The School Attendance Officer, I recall, questioned this several times, but it was quite official.

As a result of my hospital visit, I didn’t start school until I was more than five and a half. I started at the Payne Smith School which, although about a mile away from home, was thought by my Mum to be superior to the Council School nearby. I duly marched off to school with the instruction that if I wanted to pee or go to the lavatory, I was to say "Please can I leave the room", instead of to the closet, the term we used at home. At home, to use the closet meant to go for a shit. Of course, when I want to go, I forgot all the instructions. Fortunately the word closet at school did not mean the same as at home.

I was very fortunate with my first teacher. Miss Brown was lovely and I shall always remember her. Regrettably, she was the last lady teacher that I can recall with pleasure. Miss White, the head teacher, was too sharp and her understudy too sarcastic. I already had a natural talent for drawing and one day the class went to a local church. On returning, we had to draw anything we saw and with loving care, I drew a Cross. This took me a long time so Miss Sarcastic decided that I had been scrounging and made me stay in and draw something else. In five minutes flat, I drew a stained glass window, a typical child’s drawing which she said was very good. It wasn’t, but I learned that day, very early in life, that teachers did not know everything.

Life in the infant school wasn’t too bad though as we had our own part of the playground. Someone had the bright idea of drilling a heavy block of wood with three holes in which to put cricket stumps. Thus, in Summer we were able to play cricket in the playground. At the age of seven, I was moved to Standard One in the senior school. The two classes, Standards One and Two were taught by a formidable married lady who wouldn’t let any misdemeanour go unpunished and would call the headmaster in to operate. He was called Jumbo and I would say that he was a sadistic bully. He wielded a cane as if he was beating a horse. I have wondered since if the headmaster or married lady got a vague sexual thrill out of caning some poor little devil. I was lucky and managed to avoid trouble. One little incident, which seemed to represent my subsequent attitude, was connected with Assembly Prayers. At assembly, the headmaster in the main School Hall would call out a hymn number. One boy from Standard Two had to listen for the number and chalk it on the board. Boys invariably wrote in a spidery manner and I always told myself that, if I was ever picked, I would write firmly and clearly. So it turned out and I was very pleased with myself.

When I was about eight years old, the local authorities decided, in their wisdom, that all children should go to school in the area where they lived. This meant that, for me, I should go to the Council School which was a blow to my Mum who foresaw me passing the scholarship exam for the Simon Langton School if I stayed at Payne Smith; there was no hope at the Council School because they never entered anyone. I didn’t mind though - I had escaped Jumbo! The only time that I saw him as a human being was when the Payne Smith School beat the Council School at football in the Canterbury Schools Cup final. Popular belief was that he gave our goalkeeper a coin for every goal saved. I can’t vouch for the truth of that but it was possible as he was very pleased and excited. The Council School was a piece of cake after Payne Smith and I found myself in Standard Four having missed out on Three. Oddly enough, the teachers were quite good and, despite classes exceeding forty boys, a lot of whom didn’t wish to learn anything, did their best to make lessons interesting. They also did their best to maintain standards of cleanliness. All boys were in one of four sections headed under colours. Every morning, marks were awarded for clean boots, nails, neat hair etc. The results were put up on a board on a daily basis. It did help as some of the boys were in a dreadfully poor state. The teacher in Standard Four illustrated all mathematics problems with drawings on the board. From Standard Four, I went to Standard Six where the teacher in charge, Mr Bridgeman, had a wonderful capacity for teaching art and it was from him that I learned the basic principles of perspective, draughtsmanship etc. He taught us to paint using only the three basic colours, red, blue and yellow from which all other colours can be made. He also taught me to shade in pencil. He wouldn’t have known it but, thanks to him, I have, over the years, spent many happy hours drawing and painting. At the age of eleven and a half I was moved into Standard Seven along with a friend of mine called Jack Hogan. Here we were among boys of fourteen but fortunately they weren’t all that bright and were only interested in leaving. The teacher in charge was a Mr. Pepper and, despite the whisky fumes, he was a jolly good mathematics teacher. He was also a disciplinarian but was selective and rooted out the bad ‘uns. Play time was remarkable for the football match in which all the school joined in. If you were lucky, you touched the ball (tennis ball) once during the whole half hour; if you touched it twice, it was like winning a gold medal. I was always sorry for the headmaster at the Council School. He was an enlightened man but had a weak personality. Boys being boys, they took advantage; it was such a shame.

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Chapter 4

I can never understand why so called educationalists think that they can set down hard and fast rules concerning the schooling of children as a child’s mind is such a complex mechanism. I personally found that sympathetic teachers brought me along twice as fast. I wanted to learn and the teachers who knew what they were about, understood.

Schooling at the Payne Smith was, except for Miss Brown, no fun at all and directed only to turning out boys to pass scholarships. Corporal punishment was the only answer to indiscretion, thus the timid, not so bright boys must have been miserable and frightened.

The Council School was different. The boys in general were all rough but had more fun. A typical example was when the police sent a ticket for boys of eleven to attend a party. Our class spent all one afternoon engaged on a competition to see which boy would go. Mr. Bridgeman dreamed this one up. Whether it was because he knew I could attend properly dressed or whether it was an honest result, I do not know but I won and, although I was easily the best fed boy in the class, I went and enjoyed myself; no-one appeared to be jealous as I remember it.

I could run very well, but could not fight so when we played Cowboys and Indians, I could never be a cowboy because I could not fight, however I could be an Indian Chief because I could run; the cowboys had lots of fun chasing me. When it came to fights, I took part because I was afraid to walk away. I wore glasses at that time to prevent headaches, but pride stopped me taking them off to fight so I broke them, or had them broken, at frequent intervals.

The advocates of Corporal Punishment should remind themselves that it should be very selective in order to be effective and not a general cure all.

With regard to sex, I cannot recall anyone talking about it or, as far as I know, even thinking about it at that stage. There was no instruction and we would not have known the word Biology.

The language used at the Council School by a large proportion of the boys was dreadful but it was only what they had heard at home and no-one thought any less of those who did not swear.

I never regretted going to the Council School. I developed there a love of painting, a sound basic knowledge of algebra and got to rub shoulders with kids from very poor homes. More of that in later chapters. Neither did I seem to lose anything by being kept away from school for long periods as previously mentioned.

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Chapter 5

65 Union Street had, at one time, been a shop and the shop front, counters and bins etc., were still there. We couldn’t, therefore, use that area as any sort of living room but it was excellent for kids to play in. Other than the shop, the house consisted of a living room cum kitchen with two bedrooms. The lavatory was outside in the yard which was walled in. Next to the lavatory was a lean-to which housed a wooden clothes mangle (this figures later). At the other end, adjacent to the shop was a room fitted with a copper for boiling clothes. Above that was a hay loft. The rent, I recall, was six shillings per week. Just after we moved there, my Dad was posted overseas but was invalided home. For some reason, he was posted back to Egypt in 1924.

Once I was big enough, age six, and over my hospital operation, my Father started teaching me to play cricket. He also taught me the ethics, how to take hard knocks and the importance of fielding. He would fling a ball up in the air as high as he could and give me sixpence if I caught it. As it happened, I was a natural and by the time I was ten, could play with boys much older than myself. There was a problem however. We went to a place called the "Old Park" which was owned by the military. However, lots of it was wild so kids were allowed to play in it. Unfortunately, after we played, I was unable to sleep and I drove my parents mad over this, particularly Dad who had to go to work the following morning. Eventually this problem was overcome by giving me Dr Cassell’s tablets. I don’t know what was in them but they certainly worked.

After my Dad went overseas, I collected together a band of enthusiasts and played with them. I was lucky because Dad always saw to it that I had a real ball, bat and stumps. One incident perhaps indicated my future character. Once Dad had gone, I found that playing cricket with the big lads meant that my own friends were not able to cope so, I got hold of two of the big lads I liked best and persuaded them to keep the others away on the promise that they could always play with me using my bat and ball; oddly enough this worked and taught me another lesson.

My best friend at the time, already mentioned, was a lad called Jack Hogan and another was a lad called Bourne, however I also played a lot with the street ragamuffins who, in many ways, I found more exciting. Despite their roughness, they had an integrity and courage which I admired. All sorts of games were played, kick the can, marbles and cigarette cards included. There was also the challenge of hanging on carts with the kids yelling "whip behind" and getting away quickly when the driver turned round. We also played skipping with the girls although at least one boy was accused of playing only because he wanted to look up the girls’ skirts! I couldn’t quite see why he should want to do this as, after all, I knew what my sister had under her skirt and it didn’t seem anything to get excited about!

One year, my Father and Mother went to St. Edmund’s School to do some extra work and with the money they bought my sister, Betty, a pram and me a pedal motor car. This was pure luxury and, along with scooters, hoops etc. we were well catered for. Leapfrog, Piggy and Tip Cat were also games we played.

I have already mentioned that I was a good runner and it was a good job because I had to go on lots of errands for my Mum and some areas were full of aggressive, rough older kids looking for trouble. They made the Union Street kids look like angels. Fortunately, they never caught me; as I have said, I could run.

So far, the games I have mentioned have all been played outside; inside my sister and I played happily together for short periods but violent verbal quarrels would then break out. My Mum would break this up by running out of the front door saying she was going to go for good. We in our turn, would go screaming after her, imploring her to stay. Then it was peace until the next time. One day heaven was on our side; it must have been very windy because suddenly as we were quarrelling, a gust of wind blew down the chimney and we were showered with soot. Quick as flash Mum said "That’s what comes of quarrelling"; once more - peace. We used to swap our toys, but the ones I gave Betty I always regarded as mine and I was heartbroken when she broke "my" gramophone which I had given her. It was one of those old cylindrical models. I also used to make her dolls’ clothes from quilts and we could both knit after a fashion. Mum made us help with little jobs about the house, shelling peas etc. we both had to do it and that was good.

I am afraid that me being the older, Betty lost out on most things; while I got the bath and copper stick for a drum, she had to be content with some lesser object. She also kept her best sweets until last whereas I ate mine first. I always finished mine first and then scrounged some of Betty’s best ones. Unfair, however when it came to Hop Picking, you will see that she got her own back. At times we had great fun dressing up in one another’s clothes.

My favourite game, however, was one I played on my own; this was cricket in the back yard. On the leg of the table supporting the previously mentioned mangle, I nailed a board marked with a wicket. At the other end, I marked a scoreboard over the window (broken by me) of the wash house. I then used to bowl twenty balls at the rollers of the mangle. If I caught the ball direct, the batsman was out; if the ball merely went on the yard, one run; if on the small garden, two runs; hitting the wall indirect, four runs or direct, six runs. The 21st ball I used to bowl at the stumps, a miss meant runs as before but a hit meant the batsman was out. I used to represent Kent who beat every County in England. In fact I could get the ball to do what I liked on those wooden rollers. That was in the days of Frank Woolley, my boyhood hero. Silly as it may seem, this game taught me much about length and direction as well as fielding. Our best wins were against the old enemy - Yorkshire. Another lone game was played with a tennis racquet and ball, patting it hard two handed against the wall; my record was in four figures. "Tops" was another favourite game.

I was an avid reader and selected large heavy tomes from the Beany Library.  Henty and suchlike authors were my favourites but my all time favourite was a book on Big Game Hunting by Gordon Cummings. He must have killed off half the Big Game in Africa. Looking back, I am surprised that I was so fond of it. One day my father’s Officers came to see him at home and asked me what I was reading. I was rather shy and looked at him a bit puzzled. After due reflection I said "a book". Literally true of course but I don’t think my Dad was too pleased.

The same shyness got me in trouble at a later date. I had an Aunt who worked as a cook at St. Edmund’s School and one day, Mum, sister Betty and I went to tea. Normally we had tea there in my Aunt’s room but on this particular occasion, it was held in the Servant’s Hall. Thus, I found myself surrounded by girls from about sixteen upwards. I was so over faced that I put my tea plate on my lap and ate from it there - once more in trouble. Shyness in children is not really understood by adults and can be quite devastating.

The year my Father went to Egypt, I decided that we ought to go hop picking with some neighbours who had a tally. "Can’t be done" said my mother, "we haven’t any stools". Not to be put off by this I found a small box which she used for pegs and modified it and produced a model stool. Beaten, she gave me one shilling with which I bought two Margarine boxes and from these made two adequate stools. So it was off to hop picking and Betty’s revenge. The procedure started with the tally holder’s name entered in a draw for row position. The worst positions were the outside rows; hops got bigger and more plentiful as the rows got nearer to the centre of the field. The draw was made and off we went for about three weeks in August. We did this for two consecutive years, first with the Browning family and secondly with the Small family. We walked to and from the hop field. On the way we bought some Ice - coconut covered square cakes to supplement our sandwiches. On the word "Go", down came the lines and the picking started. I had only made two stools so it is obvious that no-one expected Betty to pick anything and true to forecast, she didn’t. 

	While I picked about five bushels a day, she rushed and screamed around the field having a whale of a time with the friends she had made. As a gesture, she might just pick seven or eight hops, which might have half filled a small cup. At the end of the hop picking, which was virtually our Summer holiday, Mum gave us each 2/6d and bought us a coat each. I always thought that equal shares were unfair but, on reflection, I think that she was right. Although, other than hop picking, we did not have a holiday, we occasionally had a day out on a rail excursion to Whitstable; there was also the Sunday School outing.
Betty & Me 1924		The "Small" family

Throughout my childhood, my Mother was convinced that I was delicate. I was certainly skinny and suffered from sick headaches which were partly cured by wearing glasses. I also tended to feel faint when being treated for a cut, but this ran in the family. I am ashamed to say that I used the headache problem as a means of playing off my Dad against my Mum. If he was cross with me and was threatening dire punishment, I would go into my headache routine whereupon Mum would round on Dad with words such as "Now look what you have done Fred!"

My Mum’s worry about health tended to make her act without thinking. For instance, one day jumping over a small stream, my foot slipped and went in the water. Despite my protests that my feet were not wet (after all she always ensured we were well shod), she rushed me home only to find out that I was right anyway. The constant worry unfortunately left me with what I could only describe as a fear of the unknown; this tended to exaggerate the problem I had of feeling faint whenever medical matters were discussed with, or in front of, me.

Although I have said that we did not have a proper holiday as a family, I did. During the times that I was away from school for the three month periods, I used to go and stay with my Grandma and Grandfather at Willesborough Lees near Ashford. After a day’s homesickness, I used to settle down and thoroughly enjoy myself. My Grandma, who was my Granddad’s second wife, spoiled me outrageously. More of that in the chapter on my Granddad.

We were one of the few families in the street who were able to enjoy Christmas with plenty of food and presents. These were augmented  augmented by three "Aunts" who worked at St. Edmund’s School. Only one was my true Aunt but that didn’t matter as they all managed to spoil me rotten. Each Christmas we had a tree filled with little presents and various children were invited to a party. This was spoiled for me because my Mother would not let me invite the rough kids; this meant that the ones who came were not necessarily the ones I played with. I heard one of these "nice" little girls say "Is this all we get?". She was looking at a 2d Woolworth’s toy which she had been given from the tree. I was most upset as I am sure that my rough friends would have been really grateful.

Various fragments come into my mind of things that made an impression on me and which I still remember:

• My decision at the age of seven never to cry again. What is more, as a child, I never did.

• The currant cakes my Mother made; I used to pinch great lumps on my return from school.

• The leg ache which I felt one day; I was promptly put to bed and the doctor summoned to examine me. I didn’t know what it was all about but, on reflection, I think my poor parents thought I had polio.

• The day we walked to the Station via The Mill and looking over the wall at the mill stream to see a dead man floating in the water. The poor man had committed suicide. It spoiled my day at Whitstable and preyed on my mind for some time.

• Falling off the go-cart, my Dad had just made me and banging my head. He threatened to break it up and me saying no.

• Picking daisies in a field one day and realising, just in time, that an adder was about to strike.

• Helping at a church to clean all the hassocks and coming home very late to find my Mum playing pop because she was worried as to where I had been.

• Drinking water from a stream and worrying for days that I might have picked something up.

• Having threadworms removed from my bottom by my Mother wielding a hair pin; eating the horrible chocolate that treated the condition.

• Walking with my Mother to St. Stevens to watch the village cricket (Mum loved cricket when the big hitters came in).

• Mrs Fryer, the autocratic housekeeper at St. Edmund’s School.

• Playing patience for hour after hour.

• Attending Evensong at the Garrison Church and, of course, Sunday School (Religion, however, was not deeply rooted at this time).

• The beautiful Red Admiral butterfly I caught and which subsequently became part of one of the collections of a Master at St. Edmund’s School (very sad).

• Watching a bad-tempered cavalryman being bitten by his frightened bad-tempered horse.

• Watching a Sergeant Cavalry Riding Instructor drilling a bunch of young officers in the riding school and using the most appalling language to describe them and their antecedents.

• Watching an Army Sergeant shoot a blackbird with a rifle at a range of six feet and being caught by an officer, who bawled him out to some tune.

• Watching the Buffs (My Dad’s old regiment) storm the Bullet bank in the Old Park against soldiers dressed up as Zulus. This was an annual tattoo.

• Going like mad on my scooter down St. Martin’s Hill and also round and into the cloisters at Canterbury Cathedral.

• Deciding that my Father was a jolly sight more gentle when washing me than my Mother.

• My Mother buying me patent leather shoes and me deliberately ruining them on a visit to my Granddad by kicking a tin can to my Uncle Jack who happened to be there.

• My Mother, at my request, buying a grey school cap for me and then me feeling different because it wasn’t blue.

• Finding that I had been bitten by a flea all around and on my penis just before going on a Sunday School trip.

• Watching a really poor family being evicted from their home with only the Workhouse to go to.

• Watching for my Grandfather passing the house in a charabanc and him throwing out half a crown and my Mother taking it out of the hand of some kid and replacing it with a penny which I had picked up. (The game of throwing coins out of charabancs by men on trips went on for some time; they used to enjoy seeing the kids scramble for them. Eventually this was stopped by some law or order, presumably due to the number of accidents)

• My Dad’s whistle to call us in.

Enough of nostalgia. In 1926, Mum had one last fling at getting me into a good school and entered me as a chorister in Canterbury Cathedral. I had an interview and might well have been accepted but, before this came about, the War Office informed us that our passage was booked on the SS Circassia of the Anchor Line to travel to Egypt in November. Although entry into the Chorister’s School, and a possible scholarship to the King’s School Canterbury, would have presented a wonderful opportunity to a working class boy, I never regretted taking the ship to Egypt. It was a different opportunity but one which held me in good stead later on.

As I have said, although we attended church, we were not religion mad. I think we must just have had a quiet inward belief, but the expression was more in the love and affection within the family.

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Chapter 6

Life in Willesborough Lees - Grandfather Ward

	As I recall, we used to travel by train, probably to Ashford, and then walk to the Lees. My Grandfather had a pleasant house, it being half of what had once been a much larger house. The other part housed the Sinclair family. Mrs Sinclair was French and she had a daughter of about nineteen with whom I, at ten, was in love. They used to love to get me into their house and persuade me to sing to them. My Grandfather had a large garden, beautifully maintained, a dog called Gyp and an interesting old shed. There was also a prolific apple tree and to my delight, an old wash house in which stood a huge rain butt filled with water. Rainy days saw me spend hours floating homemade boats in this rain butt. Grandfather had been trained as a Railway Engineer but was working as the Maintenance Engineer at The Union, or Workhouse. My Mother always claimed that he drank too much and didn’t treat her Mother very well but, although he liked the odd pint every day, I never saw him the worse for it and he treated his second wife, Grandma to me, with great respect. They seemed very happy.
Grandfather John Ward & me about 1930		Believed to be John & Victoria Ward

My Grandma allowed me to do anything I liked during the day and I ran wild. At night I was bathed, given my supper and went to bed when they did which was much later than at home. My favourite playground, when the weather was fine, was the old apple tree and the field at the back of the house.

My Grandfather taught me a lot about the countryside by taking me on long walks. He used to carry a heavy pocket knife and whilst walking, make me bows and arrows showing me what woods to use. He also taught me how to recognise edible mushrooms, different trees, where to find hazelnuts, chestnuts, etc. He also used to take me haymaking. In those days rabbits abounded and many were caught whilst haymaking. Although he couldn’t kill a chicken, he showed me how to despatch a rabbit we found injured by a stoat.

Another favourite place for me in Willesborough was the old Windmill which had an adjacent cricket ground. There was also a farm where we got fresh milk and butter.

Granddad used to grow wonderful chrysanthemums in his garden. Anyone asking to buy a bunch got a massive collection for only sixpence. He also made me wonderful kites; although only made from odd bits of wood and wallpaper, they would fly superbly and I had many happy hours in the back field with both the kites and bows and arrows. Indoors was a collection of illustrated books of the Boer War and I used to read these by the hour. My Grandfather didn’t read much as his eyesight was far from perfect and, when he was persuaded to go for glasses, he bought them in Woolworth, sixpence each lens, sixpence the frame ie. One and Six the lot.

His greatest friend was a chap called Jesse Owens. Long afterwards, when both Jesse and Grandma had died, Granddad went to live with Mrs Owens. After she fell ill and left Willesborough, he spent a short time as a lodger at the house of another lady. She didn’t treat him very well and so he moved to Winchelsea and lived with his daughter, Aunt Rose. After a time, she was no longer able to look after him so he joined my Mother in Canterbury where he was to die. His original house in Willesborough was taken over by the Sinclair’s.

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Chapter 7

Personalities - Union Street

Before departing on our journey to Egypt, it might be as well to dwell on some of the people directly or indirectly affecting our lives.

One whom I remember with warmth was Miss Fisher, a maiden lady, who was very religious and who used to visit the houses of the poor. She always had tea in our house because she knew that the cups would be clean. I have no idea as to where she lived.

Others included:

• Mrs Browning, who used to sit outside the house playing a huge horned gramophone. She had two daughters, Alice and Rosie.

• The Wells family who lived next door in a flea ridden house. The father was a drunken drayman, a brute to both his horse and family. They were a large family and I believe that the eldest girl finally escaped and made something of her life.

• The Harts. The father was a huge man with a squeaky voice and the son was a ragamuffin, who I liked, called Siddy. He ended up as a bookie’s runner.

• A lad called Ba-Ba; born of two deaf mutes, the family lived in great poverty with hardly a stick of furniture in the house.

• The Scotts who had twin girls, one of whom I believe to have been killed in an air raid in WW2.

• Winnie Wyman; she was probably the girl who’s knickers the boy wanted to see whilst skipping, however, I cannot be sure.

And so on to our travels!

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Chapter 8

Off to Egypt

Most of our possessions went into a large packing case bought by Mum in the High Street, Canterbury. Clothes went as hand luggage; we didn’t have much. Of course Mum had to get rid of all the furniture and household goods as best she could. I have no idea how she coped. One funny incident occurred when she sent me round to the Small family to give them a chamber pot. To disguise it, she carefully wrapped it up in brown paper but in its precise shape so I carried it looking like a chamber pot wrapped up in brown paper! Sadly, we had to part with our scooters. To do this, Betty put a "For Sale" notice in our shop window. They were Tan Sads and, surprise, surprise someone bought them. I think that Betty’s went for seven and sixpence and mine for five shillings. I can’t remember anything about the goodbyes. One lady knocked on the door at the last minute to say cheerio but I don’t know who she was.

We went to Birkenhead by train, accompanied by Aunt Rose. We stayed the night in a hotel booked by the Army and went on board the following day. When the ship sailed, we made a bad mistake; instead of going to meals and onto the deck, we stayed in our cabin. Ships have a curious smell combining tar, oil and paint; this combination, together with the ship’s motion causes sickness and going without food for three days was disastrous. We were all ill, me I think largely due to lack of food and fresh air.

After three days however, the weather improved and the ship steadied; we went to meals and up on deck. The food was plain but quite good. We got to know other families and began to make friends. The ship’s Officers were very pleasant and, as I recall, all Scottish. I felt very sorry for twelve horses which were on board in stables built on the deck. We were able to play shuffleboard on the deck and generally began to enjoy ourselves. Betty and I had some fun drawing funny faces on cardboard and trailing them on string, hoping that people looking out of portholes would be frightened. What a hope! I think that we probably stopped at Gibraltar and Malta on the way but I cannot be sure; in any case we didn’t go ashore. During the journey I managed to bang my head by falling off the hold hatch, a drop of two to three feet.

We arrived at Port Said about two weeks after leaving England. Dad came on board to collect us, carrying a box of Turkish Delight which I had not seen before. We were all thrilled to see him after the long separation. That night we stayed in Port Said in quite a pleasant hotel. The noise, smells and temperature seemed so different to England that I am sure that we felt lost and bewildered. The following day we were on our way, by train, to Cairo and Abbassia Depot. Little did we know that the next few weeks would be a most traumatic time for us as a family.

All new arrivals at that time were housed in a tented camp. Each family was allocated to a large marquee roughly divided into rooms by canvas curtains and sparsely furnished with Army furniture, including army type single beds. So much for sexual reunions. It must have been awfully difficult. Some families elected to stay in the tented camps as they liked the free and easy approach to life. Cooking was done on oil stoves and water boiled on primus stoves. This was done in a small hut built outside each tent. These people rallied round the newcomers to show them the ropes and were very helpful. Betty and I thought it smashing, but Mum must have been bewildered by it all; she was, however, very practical and got on with the job of feeding us etc.

There was, however, an undercurrent. Dad only appeared to have one couple as close friends and the husband was not in his Corps. This seemed vaguely odd but I didn’t think much about it at the time but, a little later, I visited them with Dad. She wanted to kiss me but I was not keen. In an unguarded moment however, I found them kissing. Another part of the jigsaw but I said nothing to anyone. Sometime later, Mum found a number of Love Letters from the woman to Dad. There was, of course, an awful row and, I think, talk of Mum returning home. Before anything could happen, however, Dad suffered a heart attack and Mum had to turn herself into a nurse. His bed was side by side with Mum’s and in one spasm, I saw him grip the head of her bed and literally lift her bed a foot off the ground. Of course she wasn’t in it at the time but it showed the strength of the emotional stress and physical pain he was suffering.

Oddly enough, Betty and I, both innocent sorts of children, thought that Mum was overreacting. We were, of course, sorry for her plight but we felt that he never ceased to love either her or us. I suppose it is easy for children to be objective in such circumstances but, as it turned out, our instincts proved correct. I believe that, on Dad’s part, the whole episode was brought about by loneliness and sexual frustration; this, coupled with a willing woman, explains it all for me. There was a sequel to this story. The same woman got herself involved with a young soldier who subsequently committed suicide in a Cairo hotel. Apparently she was there at the time. The upshot of this was that she was sent home to England and was heard of no more.

In the event, my parents decided to carry on. I’m not really sure how, or to what extent she forgave him. She must have because there was no further undercurrent, although I think that there was probably only limited sexual relationship. I don’t think that Mum was too keen anyway and regarded sex as a duty rather than a potential pleasure. The Victorian’s have a lot to answer for. Certainly she was shy and inhibited. Much later when Dad was in hospital dying, he wanted her to hold his hand but she always felt embarrassed. A shame.

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Chapter 9

A Portrait of My Father

Dad was born in Deal, Kent on 7th May 1886 and christened Frederick William. I met his father, Frederick, but not his mother, Ida Jane (nee Allen), who died young. Ironically, she was reputed to be very strong and easily lifted her children with her teeth.

I know little of his boyhood except that his family was a poor one. He seemed to be reasonably well educated in as much as the three "R"s were concerned, but much of this came from his Army education, where he held the First Class Education Certificate. He was very intelligent and had a strong sense of duty. Despite a little temper he was very patient; he also had courage and integrity. Nonetheless, he was very human with both virtues and weaknesses.

At the age of 15 or 16, with the Boer War in full flow, he tried to join the Army by pretending he was eighteen. Unfortunately for him, he was both short and slight so he was turned down. Not to be put off, at seventeen, he again applied and this time was accepted. Thus, his Army age was one year older than his real age. He joined the East Kent Regiment (The Buffs) and was quickly shipped off to South Africa to become involved in some Zulu uprising. He took part in a famous forced march, complete with rifle and kit, of fifty-six miles in twenty-four hours. He was one of the few to complete the march. He thought highly of the Zulu tribe; he was not colour prejudiced, just respected people for what they were. He served five years with the Colours and was then put on reserve. He then went to work at St. Edmund’s School as a general porter where he met my Mother. They were married on 28th August 1913 and I was born eleven months later. On the outbreak of war in 1914, he was called up but turned down and discharged because of a heart defect. This was not helped by Chronic Bronchitis which affected him throughout his life.

On his marriage, he had moved to Whitstable where I was born. Having been turned down by the Army, he worked as an Insurance Agent until 1918 when he was accepted by the Army in a noncombatant capacity in the Royal Army Pay Corps. By the time I could remember, he was a Sergeant.  Around 1920 he was posted overseas to Egypt but was invalided home after a few months. He was posted back to Egypt in 1924 and we joined him in 1926. By this time he was a Staff Sergeant and subsequently was promoted to Staff Quartermaster Sergeant. On returning from Egypt, he was taken off the ship at Gibraltar with acute pneumonia. He finally returned to England in February 1930 and was posted first to Hounslow and then Chatham. During the war, he spent some time in Manchester, London and Brighton but his health became progressively worse. He was discharged in April 1941 and was made Barrack Warden at Canterbury Barracks. During this time he was recommended for the award of the MBE, but did not receive it. Despite his health problems, he played cricket into his late 40s and then took up umpiring. He used to carry his rule book in his coat and beware the man who argued with him no matter what the man’s rank might be. During his last illness in early 1946, a little incident indicated the sort of man he was. A well-meaning lady came round and was quoting the Twenty Third Psalm to him; he knew that he was dying but his only remark to the lady was "Atta Girl". He died on 22 March 1946 - May He Rest in Peace.

My sister Betty at Dad's grave in Canterbury

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Chapter 10

Egypt and the First Year

Abbassia was a very large, self-contained Army camp situated between Cairo and Heliopolis. At the time of which I am speaking, there was a cavalry regiment the 15th/19th Hussars, the Norfolk Regiment, a battery of the Royal Horse Artillery, a company of the Royal Tank Corps which included a section of Rolls Royce Armoured Cars, and, of course, the RASC, RAOC, RAPC, Signals and medical Corps.

The camp itself comprised a large area of barracks, Married Quarters, Churches of all Denominations, Cinema, Swimming Bath, NAAFI and Various Messes. In addition there were various playing fields, most of which were made of "mutte", a hard packed surface similar to a clay tennis court. There was also a pleasant playing field which was grassed called the Slade Ground which comprised two football pitches and a clubhouse, of which more later.

The school was on the lower floor of the Married Quarters, Block ‘C’ to which we had moved a few weeks after our arrival. My Mother went with us to report to school along with a boy and girl called Hartley. I mention this because they came from the Hartley jam manufacturing family. Their father, a sergeant, eventually inherited. It was a shame that the son was rather backward. Much to my disappointment, I was put in Standard Six which I thought a come down for me. As it turned out, it was a blessing in disguise as the syllabus was different. I was soon to pick up.

The headmaster was called Cleaver (nicknamed "Kiwi" - I don’t know why). He was a Warrant Officer and a real gentleman. In some ways it was like looking at a reflection of my own father in as much as both maintained discipline by mental rather than physical coercion. Thus one learned self discipline when young, the best discipline of all.

The school was divided into two houses, Oxford and Cambridge and I was allocated to Cambridge where the head boy was named Start. Betty went into Oxford but always supported Cambridge because I was in it. The head boy in Oxford was named Hampton. I mention the names because they both figured in happenings that year which I have never forgotten. Ted Hampton was two years older than me and a very good cricketer. We used to practice at playtime with wooden balls and he couldn’t make head nor tail of my slow bowling with the changes of length and pace. Doug Start noticed this and when we played our first match, Oxford versus Cambridge, he put me on to bowl. I had Ted in tangles and the inevitable happened, he got impatient and I bowled him. I finished with eight for 15, hitting the wicket each time. I batted and got the highest score ever, 43. We won easily. I am sure that my Pop was pleased (I don’t know when Dad became Pop). Ted was also a very good runner, particularly in the sprints, but in school sports day that year Doug Start beat him, something he had never done before. All in all, Ted had a rotten year in sports. Betty was highly delighted, the disloyal little hussy.

That year "Kiwi" decided to start us off playing hockey and we were provided with sticks and the necessary strip. Being a mixed school, the hockey was also mixed. It got off to a slow start but soon picked up and started me on many happy games over many years; I passed the love of the game to John, my elder son.

I have mentioned school sports. The school motto was "Play the Game" and it meant exactly what it said. Although the sports were competitive between the two houses, "Kiwi" ruled that, however good you were, you could only take part in two events in addition to one team game. This team game consisted of things like a boat race, where eight "rowers" and one coxswain sat astride a long pole and ran backwards with the cox doing his best to keep the rest straight.

"Kiwi" himself taught the top two classes; he taught well and, throughout, the emphasis was on character, comradeship and integrity. Oddly enough, his own son, although a nice lad, was a bit soft and could be said to be a bit of a mummy’s boy. "Kiwi" only punished a boy once that year, and that only lightly, for sending a rude note to a girl. Respect for girls and women was insisted upon. The thought of sex had no part in my life at this time and no instruction was given. Lessons were interesting in that subjects were a little different from those to which I had before. The main one was map reading, a typical Army subject, which stood me in good stead in later years.

I have not mentioned football which we did play, some quite well, but there were no formal matches that first year. When we did play before school and playtime, we always played inter house. The result of this was that early in the morning, if someone turned up with a ball, we could find ourselves playing nine against two and before the rest turned up, the score could be 20-0. One result of this was to make the boys punctual. As regards the Sports Day that year, I can vaguely remember winning a mouth organ. We could also win little prizes by running in the boys races at the Regimental Sports.

I learned to swim that year, mostly in self defence. We used to go to the swimming bath and I found myself being flung in by bigger boys ( I still couldn’t fight). In midsummer we went off, as families, to the seaside at Sidi Bish near Alexandria. It was there that my Dad taught me to swim. For some time I could only swim under water, but eventually found out how to keep on top. After that, I had no more trouble at the swimming bath.

Towards the end of the first year I joined the Scouts and soon passed the Tenderfoot Badge. I am sorry to say that, to do this, I cheated. We were supposed to start a fire using only three matches but I must have used at least seven without admitting it and thus got my badge. The Scout and Cub Masters were Lance Corporals and first class at the job. The discipline was right and so was the spirit. After a few months however, they returned to England, but more of that later. I remember that I was in the Jackal Patrol. The troop at this time was run exactly as it should be.

I haven’t said much about any activity other than school and sports chiefly because that was our life. We went to school between 9.00 am and 1.00 pm only, so life was carefree. Life at home was happy and my Mother didn’t seem to mind whenever I trailed in a crowd of boys for a drink of water from the big "chattie" which was kept full of very cool water. Evenings I played cricket with my Dad on a nearby practice pitch. Occasionally we went to the cinema and the Sergeant’s Mess. We had infrequent trips to Cairo where we crowded into trams filled with locals; we travelled Third Class. My Dad wasn’t class conscious and he liked to mix with the natives, but I think my Mum would have been happier in the private First Class compartment.

More of our general impressions in another chapter but now a portrait of my Mother.

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Chapter 11

A Portrait of My Mother

Mum was born, one of three sisters, the others being Rose & Beatrice, and a brother Harry, in Sevington, Kent on 5th May 1886 and Christened Elsie Ella Ward. I do not remember her mother, Victoria Nina (nee Down), but believe that she saw me. She died young from Tuberculosis.

I know little of her girlhood but she must have gone to the local school. Certainly her writing etc. was perfectly adequate. She came from what may be described as sturdy country stock. She had a strong sense of duty, would fiercely defend her "cubs", possessed integrity but most of all was blessed with common sense. At the age of fourteen she went "into service". In those days, that was the fate of an enormous number of girls. Underpaid and overworked, the only way out was in marriage. She started off at a place called Sandgate in Kent and went on to St. Edmund’s School in Canterbury where she worked her way up to head cook. This was good progress but, as far as I know, her annual wage never exceeded £14. She seemed happy enough however and looked back on her time there with affection. As it happens, her sister Rose Kate took her place at the school so it became a place to revisit over the years until Rose left during the WW2. It was here too that she struck up a friendship with Alice Philpotts which continued until Alice’s death. Alice with Rose and later on Molly became to me the "Three Aunts". Despite the problems, she loyally followed my Dad wherever he was posted; this involved living in many substandard Married Quarters. Nonetheless she cheerfully maintained a clean home and, as she was a good cook, first class food.

	After Dad died, she looked after my Grandfather for some time until he died. She was always a worrier and eventually left the house in Canterbury and moved into a Council house made of steel. Eventually, ill health forced a move to live with my sister in Leeds, where, unfortunately, she slowly became senile. It was painful to watch her change from a bright as a button woman, running her own house, tilling her own garden etc., to an old lady who was no longer bright and no longer talked much sense. She could remember the old days but not the hour before. When she was still running her own home, she ran her life in a very organised manner, working to lunchtime then changing and out for a walk and shopping in the afternoon. I should mention here, and I am sure that she would like me to, the wonderful job my sister did, looking after her during the final difficult years of her life. She died in a Leeds hospital on 25th March 1971. Her ashes were placed in my father’s grave in Canterbury. May She Rest in Peace.
Triss, Rose & Mum at Winchelsea - 1930		Mum at Filey in the 1960s

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Chapter 12

Egypt and the Second Year

Just before the new year started we had the usual prize giving. It was on this occasion that various classes performed plays. I’m afraid that I was never any good at play acting but was always called up to do Folk Dancing; I had won a prize for first in class. The odd thing about the plays was that I could always remember all the words. In fact when we did "The Merchant of Venice", I knew everyone’s part. I also had to do the Folk Dancing on Sports Day about which I had mixed feelings. There were three boys and three girls and I was paired with a girl called Kathleen Walker; I liked that part. She lived near the Camp main gate in Talbot Block. I can’t remember doing very much on Sports Day that year, but hockey had come into its own and whilst I cannot remember much about any of the games, I did score seven goals in one match; needless to say, we won that one. This was the year when I learned to cycle. Cycles were borrowed, for about five piastres (one shilling), from an Egyptian cycle shop. I used to go for them and get one for Betty at the same time. I insisted that she rode a boy’s bike, but I’m not sure why. The borrowing of cycles introduced me to an unsavoury form of sex in as much as one older boy warned me to be careful of the "Gippos" in the shop as they were liable to stick their cocks up my bum. I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about and ignored it. I certainly never had any trouble. I found it most peculiar somewhat later when I had buckled the wheel of a new bike belonging to another boy that his Mum would not let him take it to the shop for repair insisting that I take it. I wondered if she had heard the stories too. Anyway, I took the bike, had it repaired without any trouble for about 12½ piastres (2/6d) and Dad paid for it. Life was too much fun to bother one’s head about mucky people and I went blithely on my way.

The Turner Family - 1927

By now, Scouts had become a washout. A new Scoutmaster was introduced. He was a Royal Engineer’s officer who asked us to call him by his Christian name. I thought this odd and he soon disappeared. Some years later, I read that he had been Court Martialled in Chatham for Sodomy, which may well explain his curious behaviour. Anyway, he never tried anything on with any of us. Scouts were then taken over by the Church of England Padre (he didn’t have much clue), a Major and Corporal in the Tank Corps, who were both excellent chaps. For a time we attended at a flat in Heliopolis, going on trips into the desert on Armoured Cars. Ultimately, however, a new hut was built. I was already a "Second" and then became a Patrol Leader ending up as Troop Leader. I got several badges, including one for swimming which I got more for courage than ability. Part of the qualification was to dive from a twelve-foot high board. I did seven "belly flops", so the Major who was judging said: "I’ll give it to you for pluck". The new hut, palatial though it was with excellent play facilities, was not the same. The spirit was missing.

During the year, the 15th/19th Hussars went on to India to be replaced by the 10th Hussars. It was noticeable that each time a regiment moved, any Army footballers changed Regiments and stayed in Egypt.

Dad was still working in what was called the 1911 building since it had been built in that year. Unfortunately, it had been built in the wrong place, the plans having got mixed up with another set. The result was that Abbassia got a building designed for Chatham and Chatham got the one designed for Egypt, complete with Eastern Minarets! For some reason, there were periods when Dad went to Cairo to work, presumably Kasr-el-Nil barracks. Mostly, these trips were made in lorries enclosed in cages. This was to stop missiles from rioting students. Men carried rifles but Dad was excused because of his health condition. We used to spend some Sunday evenings at the Slade Ground Club. The gardens were set out with tables and were lighted; drinks were available as were chips and a Military Band would play which made it all very pleasant.

In Cairo, someone thought of opening a Speedway and Dog track. My father got a spare time job once a week, taking the gate money. He used to take me along and, for a while, I enjoyed it, but after a period I got bored on my own and stopped going. I think this was because the speedway stopped; for some reason the Egyptians liked Dogs but not Speedway. Incidentally, I still couldn’t fight but Betty could and she had several tussles with kids, unbeknown to me at the time, because they had said something about me. The only time I got involved in a scrap was once at Sidi Bish when some kid called my Father names; I chucked him into the sea. I also had a stand up fight with my friend Joe Stovin. It was a good job that the school bell went because he was stronger than me. I can remember being hit in the eye by a boy who threw a clod of sand and stones at me. I had a lovely black eye. This was the boy I eventually threw into the sea.

The games we were fond of were stilts and throwing sticks with paper feathers. A notch round the stick and a piece of string knotted, it was amazing how far a missile could be thrown. I spent hours trying to hit kitehawks but never managed it as they were too crafty.

There weren’t many different types of birds. Kitehawks, doves, a kind of crow and Hoopoes are all that I can remember. There were a number of lizards and we got quite used to them on the bedroom walls. They did no harm, in fact they did quite a lot of good by eating flies. We saw the odd Tarantula and many scorpions. One night I directed a torch beam onto a pile of stones from our verandah in "C" Block and several scorpions came crawling out and started climbing the walls; I hurriedly switched off and went indoors. Indoor games for me meant meccano, reading and cards. My favourite card game was Solo Whist.

We went on our usual holiday to the camp at Sidi Bish but that year I caught Sand Fly Fever which rather spoiled things. Of course we always slept under mosquito nets but the sand flies could still get in. I recovered in three or four days. In the evenings we used to spend time at the Community Hall where we held concerts, drank pop and played Housey-Housey. A win often came in useful. There were also Whist, Beetle and Sevens drives. All in all very simple but we did enjoy ourselves.

Most of all we enjoyed the beach. One activity was fishing, with simple tackle, off the end of the sewage pipe, where there were shoals of small mullet. These, when caught, were used as bait on long lines which were anchored in the sand with the hooks and weights being thrown out to sea and left all night. Mostly we were met every morning by a tangle of lines but twice, to our joy, we were lucky and caught real fish. The largest of these was a 5lb Sea Salmon which we shared that evening with the people who sat with us. I can’t remember any seagulls but there were hundreds of land crabs which used to bury themselves in the sand. At night they could be seen scuttling all over the place. Swimming was a delight. It was only allowed in one certain area bounded by a reef and netted on either side. Expert swimmers were always on duty and swimming was limited to certain times. Along the beach was a place called Spouting Rock which was a natural phenomena. The sea would rush into the side of a big rock cavern and then emerge out of a large hole in the top near where we could stand. It was rather a dangerous place really. There were lovely pools nearby however; they were very still and calm and beautiful for swimming. For some reason the water was fairly cold.

Sidi Bish - 1927

That year I realised for the first time that not all families were the same. I had got over my Sand Fly Fever and called on another boy, whose name was Denyer, to go to the beach. His mother and father were also preparing to go to the beach and my eyes popped out a bit when his mother bobbed in and out of the rooms naked from the waist up and quite unselfconscious. I had been used to seeing women feeding babies in public but this was different. The same boy remarked at a dance one night that my Mother’s dress was obviously home made. I have no idea how he knew but I didn’t like his remark very much.

That year I went camping with the Scouts. I was a bit homesick. I also won a bottle of pop for losing a boxing match. This camp was memorable for only one thing. One small boy kept on falling into the stream which was fed from the Nile. This meant that he had to be washed all over as Nile water had a large content of Bilharzia, a parasitic disease which was not pleasant to contract. The place we camped at was Mahdi. One day we were all under the shower set up by the Army when some ladies came by, obviously officer’s wives. They were on horseback and one of them stood and looked at us for several minutes. She seemed cold and haughty and I almost shivered. Looking back I think that she exuded sexuality.

One of our school subjects was gym at which I was fairly proficient. In the evenings the PT Instructors would be practicing and after a time also allowed me to practice. They also taught me back flips, somersaults etc. I thought of the boy in Canterbury who led the gym team which gave exhibitions at fetes. He was about half the size of the rest of the troop but a beautiful gymnast. He always went last and always outshone the rest. I dreamed about becoming as good as him but never did. One last memory of this year was the Army Cup Final where the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, who were favourites, lost 0 - 2. Whenever the Scots played football in Abbassia (they were stationed in The Citadel, Cairo), the Mounted and Military Police were trebled. It was chaos with drunken Scots threatening the referee and everyone else in sight. The same night, they knifed their goalkeeper who had let in the two goals. We often watched the Egyptian team play the Army. They always won and I have often wondered why they never became a World force team. Even their Public Schools played soccer.

I am wrong that wasn’t the last memory; Dad fell ill with severe dysentery and had to spend some time in the hospital at the Citadel. Fortunately he soon recovered.

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Chapter 13

Egypt - General Memories

Egypt was dirty and it stank but it had a magic of its own. After all, its history went back thousands of years and the remains were there to be seen. There was no better way to gain an insight into their history than to visit the Cairo Museum where intact remains dating back seven thousand years were on view. When I was there, the Tomb of Tutankhamen had not long been open and I saw these wonderful things, his throne etc. looking as new as the day they were made. There were a whole variety of things on show which presented a very good picture of life hundreds of years ago. It also showed me that the Egyptians then had a pride which had seemed to have been lost. One amusing incident occurred while we were in the museum. I wandered into a room full of little statues and the males all had large erect penises. The Egyptians were, to say the least, a realistic race, and very virile too, going by the statues! However, I was hurriedly dragged out of there by my Mother.

	The Zoological Gardens was another favourite place for us. We used to have a pleasant tea in a café on a small island in a lake reached by a bridge. I can’t remember the animals, but the setting was lovely. We, of course, visited the Pyramids at Giza. The Sphinx in those days had its feet covered in sand but was later excavated. The large pyramid, Cheops, was made up of huge stones 9' x 9' x 9' and the base of the whole structure was correct to within 1' on any side. We could have ridden on camels at Giza but never did as they seemed dirty, bad-tempered animals. Dad used to like to talk to the desert Arabs there but we stood rather aloof. On looking back, I am sure that he had the right idea. Another good trip was to the Barrage upstream on the Nile. We went there on a river steamer as a party. There was a parkland where we used to play cricket and have picnics. On the way, the fellaheen could be seen working their fields, the blindfolded oxen trudging wearily round and round pumping water. The boat was slow and the children were a bit bored with the actual journey but it was fun once we were there. One time we came back with me flat on my back, my nose covered in ice bags. I had got an awful nose bleed.
1929		The Mosque at Abbassia - 1929

I went one day to the Red Hills which was a desert area containing different coloured sands which the natives would bottle in different layers. They looked quite pretty.

Every year there were student riots in Cairo and so we never went to the cinema there. It was funny really as the students used to go to the cinema and then stand up in rows yelling "Down with the English". Rows of Scotsmen would then stand up and proceed to fight the students on behalf of the English. The Police seemed a well-ordered lot and very smart, many being Ex British Army.

There was an Army Club in Cairo and occasionally we would spend an evening there drinking, chatting and reading two weeks old English newspapers. I wonder now how much damage has been done to the world as a result of instantaneous news on radio and television? Another well-known place we visited for afternoon tea was "Groppis", known all over the world for its cream cakes. The taxis in Cairo were a menace and were driven like racing cars. Most of them were Fiats, but I don’t know why. A lot of begging went on in the streets. Little kids mutilated and asking for baksheesh. The only trouble was that when you gave to one an immediate crowd gathered all with outstretched hands. It became quite difficult, blindness, crippled arms and legs and poverty was rife. Not a pleasant sight. Also, in Cairo was a brass market called the Mouske. There you were expected to bargain for brassware but although we looked around, we never bought. The brassware that we did buy was purchased from a hawker who came round the camp. You were still expected to bargain. Another hawker who came round was a Swiss wearing dark glasses; he sold cottons and fabrics etc.

I have previously mentioned the sights and smells of Egypt, but there were also the sounds. One remembered is the row that went up in the evening during Ramadan when the natives could break their fast. Second was the sound of "The Last Post" floating across the still night, the sky black but bright with stars. The sound I most disliked was the Fire Siren. There were several fires while we were there and in that dry climate it was frightening. Talking of dryness, it only rained three times in the three years we were there. One other disturbing sound was of the poor locked up in the Egyptian Lunatic Asylum which was just outside of the camp bounds. The Egyptian people seemed to be divided into two distinct groups, rich and poor. The Egyptians were often accused of being dishonest and perhaps they were but who could blame them? They were a very excitable race and when a funeral passed through the streets of Cairo one was well advised to get out of the way as all the bystanders joined in. There was a racecourse near Cairo and Dad, on occasions, acted as a gatekeeper taking the money. We all went with him once. I remember we backed only one horse on the Tote and it won by a mile. It was a grey horse and the jockey’s name was Garcia. A strange thing to remember!

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Chapter 14

Egypt and the Third Year

Soon after I had arrived in Egypt, I started to take a new boy’s magazine called "Modern Boy". Unfortunately, there was an article in it by Fred Root, a sturdily built medium fast bowler from Worcestershire. The wickets in Egypt were coconut matting on "mutte", a sort of hard packed clay. Spin was not very effective so a faster, flatter ball swinging in either direction was a better option. I decided to be a second Fred Root but, of course, I wasn’t built for fast bowling and so, although I never lost length, I didn’t develop as well as I should have. By this time, I played quite well and, for some reason, my Dad thought it best to let me go my own way. A trooper in the Royal Dragoons, who had replaced the 10th Hussars, tried to reason with me but I wouldn’t listen; after all I was taking wickets. He was right and I was wrong, but more of cricket when I get to Sidi Bish once more.

The Royal Dragoons were an interesting Regiment who used to put on shows, riding their horses in races, jumping, tent pegging etc.; by this time the Norfolk Regiment had been replaced by the Gloucestershire Regiment.

It was this year that we moved into "huts". They were really wooden bungalows, built in line, four families to a block. It was pleasant living in them and we grew melons and loofahs in the sand at the rear of the bungalow. Dad bought a puppy but unfortunately it died and I was heartbroken. We also had a tortoise but its skinny neck revolted me. It was about this time that I got interested in the RAF and I made several rather clumsy models of aircraft. I also used to walk to the airfield at Heliopolis and talk to the Fitters working there. I scrounged some bungee elastic from them which I used for making catapults; I also made toy tanks from cotton reels. "Kiwi" was at last persuaded to let us field a soccer side against two Public Schools. Nasria School beat us 4 -1 and the Prince Farouk School 10 - 1. I know that I scored the goal against Nasria. "Kiwi" stood on the line tearing his rather woolly hair but we didn’t mind as we had a game, or rather two games. "Kiwi" had his usual Christmas Party to which Betty and I were always invited. Unfortunately, he would never invite Kathleen Walker. I can only think that it was either because she was Catholic or that her father was, by then, a civilian; he was a rather objectionable man. Certainly I could not be friends with her as children are today. I could only kiss her by chasing her and grabbing a kiss when I caught her. Yes, I could still run. One evening the school seniors went to see a Shakespeare play in Cairo and I managed to grab a seat next to her on the bus which gave me great satisfaction. One hilarious evening, at the Slade Ground, my Dad pulled my leg unmercifully when the band played "I’ll Take You Home Again Kathleen". Much laughter but also a little sadness as I really did like her. She was also the first signpost on my long road to Catholicism. It is a little sad that she will never know.

That year I achieved two ambitions at school. Firstly, I won the High Jump at the School Sports. To win I had to jump 4' 1". "Kiwi" would not let me go on as self aggrandisement was not the order of the day. Secondly, I was voted most popular boy in the school and was given a wallet as a prize. I was disappointed that Kathleen was not voted most popular girl, but then, I was biased. "Kiwi" also achieved an ambition. His son beat me in the exams, he coming first and me second. About this time there was a spate of stealing by the natives called, in the vernacular, "Loose Wallahs". The husbands ganged up to catch them so they were frightened off.

That year at Sidi Bish was notable for the cricket match that my Dad managed to fix between a side of the boys on the camp and the Victoria College Public School. I captained and picked our very scratch side. They went into bat and to my surprise I had seven wickets in no time at all. Their score was 30 for 7 with me on about 7 for 11. Thinking that we would have no players, they had reversed their batting order and so with me having to bowl right through in a really hot sun, I was faced with their real batsmen when I was tiring. At the other end, Joe Stovin had to be given a rest as he was all in. At tea they were 110 for 7 and, I might add, extremely apologetic. We went in but it was hopeless; they didn’t reverse their bowling order and we were all out for 40/50. I got about 11 or so when my Dad gave me out LBW. You should have seen my face. On our return there was a donkey derby starting so we cheered up a bit, but my donkey, despite being called "Seven Wicket Turner", came in last.

In general, the second half of the year was not a happy one. It started off with a boy earlier that year, repeating to me what a singularly dissolute soldier had told him about the pleasures he had enjoyed and the things he had seen in the brothels of Cairo. Having been brought up at home and school to respect women and live a clean life, and knowing nothing about sex except perhaps that women bleed once a month (I didn’t know why), I was shocked to the core. I was sensible enough to tell my parents who explained gently as best as they were able; while I was at school, there was so much else to think about that I mentally set it aside. Nevertheless, I never played with that boy again. I suppose I was rather a prig. To explain the ignorance of children in those days can be shown by a small example. Two ten year olds had heard that sex consisted of the boy putting his "thing" into the girl’s "hole", but that was all they had been told. They decided to try it but, of course, with no success and I am sure that they were puzzled for days as to why his limp little willy wouldn’t go into place.

"Kiwi" decided to run a dance for the children whereupon, I hurriedly learned from Betty how to Waltz. I don’t know who taught her! Armed with this knowledge, off I went to the dance, where I grabbed Kathleen and proceeded to show her my prowess. Unfortunately, she hadn’t bothered learning at all and doing a Waltz to a Foxtrot caused some difficulties. Anyway, it didn’t matter at all because I was with my girl. Then the blow fell; both Kathleen and I were fifteen and were made to leave school. I spent some time at the men’s 1st class certificate class but didn’t really get on. An Officer found me a job with a chemist in Cairo, but my Father, rightly I think, turned it down. Uncertainty came into my mind and I had a very unhappy three or four months. I was, I suppose, in the middle of adolescence and became very conscious of myself. I doubted my own sanity, wondered if I was illegitimate and my teeth were constantly on edge. I was obviously in a very nervous state. Fortunately we were coming to the end of our stay and I decided that I wished to join the Royal Air Force. I applied and was sent for a medical. My Mum was still convinced that I was delicate and thought that I would not pass, but she was not correct. The doctor described me as "small as a whippet and strong as a horse". I also took the entry exam. It seemed such a long time before I heard that I had been accepted, that this too, and perhaps this more than anything else, caused my nervous reactions. In the end I did hear that I was to go to Halton as an Apprentice in January 1930. In the meantime, we were booked for a passage to England on the Troopship Dorsetshire, leaving in November. And so, it was goodbye to Egypt.

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Chapter 15

Gibraltar and Home

We boarded the Dorsetshire  at Port Said. The first night on board, I had to sling a hammock, along with my Dad, somewhere in the bowels of the ship mixed up with all manner of men. Dad thought the company a bit rough for me, what with the bad language and dirty jokes. I didn’t really worry, because I didn’t understand the jokes anyway, but I was still glad to be found a comfortable bed in the Sick Bay. We called in at Malta but did not go ashore. My Dad fell ill with pneumonia and by the time we reached Gibraltar, was in a bad way. We had our hearts in our mouths as we watched him lowered onto the quay in a sling operated from the ship. He, of course, went straight to the hospital and we were allocated a quarter.

1930 - SS Dorsetshire

There was no fresh water on tap here; it was brought round in water tankers. Fortunately, as is usual in the Army, people rallied round. A friend of Dad’s from our Canterbury days helped us and Betty and I got an invitation to the children’s Christmas Party and even got presents. Mr McNally showed us round The Rock, including the top which was covered in thousands of narcissus. The scent and sight were lovely. We were shown the old guns housed in caves carved out of the rock and he also showed us how the water was collected by an artificial apron built on the back side. We also went on a trip to La Linea. In between, of course, we were visiting Dad who was making slow but gradual progress. The Rock area was a delight to a boy, full of Naval Ships, including the Nelson and Rodney. Every week, the P&O and Orient liners came on their way to and from the Far East. There was an interesting garden in Gibraltar, including one tree which had both oranges and lemons growing on it. I noticed, about this time, that my brain was reacting to girls; there were quite a few attractive young women on The Rock and I particularly noticed their breasts, but really only gave them a passing thought. I had some vague idea of what sex was all about, but not much.

I was still in the habit of running when I went on errands for Mum. One day I was running back with a bottle of sauce in a bag when I dropped it. Picking it up, I carried on, brought it into the house and slapped it onto the table with the words: "I thought so". Of course it was broken so back I went, running of course. We only had our Summer clothes with us at the time so, as it was Winter in England, Mum bought us winter coats.

Finally, with my Dad recovered, we set sail in the Troopship Nevassa towards the end of January 1930.  Leaving harbour, as we passed each Battleship, the crews dressed ship and the bands played.  It was quite an exciting moment.

Trouble started almost at once.  My Mum and Sister were allocated a four-berth cabin along with another woman.  Seeing that there was an empty berth, my Mother asked the other lady if she would mind me taking the spare bunk.  "Yes I would" said she, "it wouldn’t be decent".  This was funnier than it sounds because the woman was sitting there with her legs wide apart and skirt above the knee giving everyone a fine view of her stockings and underwear all the way up to her crotch.  It was a good job that she wasn’t wearing French Knickers.  My Mum told me later that she sat like that all the time.  Dad didn’t want me slinging a hammock among the troops so he slung one in the middle of the lower deck among the families.  I was tucked in every night by a lovely, Motherly lady who had a large family but who still had time to see that I was alright, what a difference in people.  After four days, we docked at Southampton where "Mauretania" was also berthed.  We had only just tied up when a stentorian shout went up "Boy Turner, Boy Turner".  It was an RAF Sergeant who had been detached to meet me.  Dad explained that he would be taking me himself on the following day.  The same thing happened when we reached Waterloo.  We duly arrived at Hounslow Barracks and were allocated a quarter which was pretty old and battered and had unfaced brick walls painted a bright red. It was quite awful.  The following day my Father, in uniform, took me to Halton.  As it transpired, this gave me a good start and I started my new life.

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Chapter 16

Odd Memories of Egypt and Gibraltar

Before I finally say goodbye to overseas and welcome life in the RAF, here are some final thoughts and memories:

• The poor girl sent swimming with a costume which wasn’t fastened between the legs.

• My idea that all soldiers should be given an Austin 7 to go to war in. At that time most of the transport was horse drawn. Shades of the 1940 Panzers.

• The only time that "Kiwi" severely punished a boy, and expelled him for stealing. The lad was an odd-ball and not very popular. He was the son of a jockey who used to ride in Heliopolis and Cairo. Looking back, I wonder if he was merely trying to buy popularity.

• The game of "Consequences" at parties, which can be very hilarious.

• Mr McNally visiting and I thought him a greedy devil for eating twenty of my Mother’s buns. In fact I had dozed off between him eating his first and second; I dreamed that he ate the other eighteen.

• Learning not to betray a confidence. My Pop told my Mother that a certain rather decent chap in his Corps had been an alcoholic.  I told some boys and, of course, it got back to the chap, who promptly got hold of my Father.  He quietly let me know that I had let him down and I felt about the size of a flea. Never again.

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Part 2