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We boarded the green and white ‘bus, owned by the ‘Bristol Tramways Omnibus Company Limited’ – Service No.26 - for our journey to Dursley.
After what turned out to be an uneventful journey, we alighted from the ‘bus at the Kingshill Road stop, opposite the Regal cinema.
From the Kingshill ‘bus stop it was just a short walk to our new home at 24 Kingsway, Kingshill, Dursley.
We had to walk back along Kingshill Road, in the Wotton direction, past Kingshill Park, a private housing estate, on the right. Then we had to turn right a few yards further on, into Priory Court, which is a block of Council owned flats, where the road forked. The road to the left fell away into St George’s Road. The top road was the one that we needed into Kingsway. This road consisted of two rows of houses; the fronts of the houses on the right faced the fronts of the houses on the left. The houses on the right all had small well-tended flower gardens, at this time of year daffodils were on the verge of opening their golden trumpet flower heads and swaying in the breeze. Royal blue and gold coloured crocuses mingled proudly among the carpet of snowdrops that swept across most of the garden borders. The gardens belonging to the houses on the left were less colourful as they were on a bank that sloped steeply from the road down to the base of the houses. Most of these gardens were planted with shrubs and small trees. The exterior colours of the houses were uniformly magnolia, with slate grey tiles. Number twenty-four was about three-quarters of the way down the road on the left.
Approaching our destination, luggage laden, we could see the removal men busily unloading the van. From the front gate a flight of some fourteen concrete steps led down to the front door, with a small sloping flower garden on either side. Entering the house we saw that all of the heavy furniture had been put in place, the three-piece suite, sideboard dining room table and chairs etc. While Dad was up stairs, in the bedroom, busily assembling the beds, and getting the wardrobes and dressing tables into position. On our arrival at the new house, Mum and Nan began unpacking the kitchenware; crockery, cutlery and the non-perishables too go into the large walk in larder.
The new house consisted of three fairly large bedrooms, a spacious bathroom and a large airing cupboard, with plenty of storage space for towels and bed linen. The staircase was wider than we had been used too. It was divided into two short flights of steps, with a small square landing half way down. The staircase led down into the square shaped hallway inside the front door. From there the lounge/diner was through a door on the left, and the kitchen was through the door that faced you as you walked through the front door. There was also a small cupboard under the stairs, which housed the electricity meter. We children used this cupboard as a place to keep most of our toys and also as a den, a place of refuge!
Downstairs there was a large lounge/dining area, partitioned by a heavy red velvet curtain and pelmet. The curtain was on a large wooden pole, which enabled it to be drawn backward and forwards easily. The kitchen was the size of a ballroom, compared to the one that we had been used to in Wotton. Under a large metal-framed window, there was a built in sink unit, with double drainers. There were large wooden kitchen cabinets with plenty of storage space top and bottom. Just too the left of the sink unit there was a fairly new gas cooker. Unlike the one that Mum had been used to, this one had a large oven, four big hobs on top and a grill canopy and pan. Through a door in the corner of the kitchen, was a large walk in larder. Inside the walls were lined with shelves for storage, and a small window at the back for ventilation. The door next to the larder led into what we called the scullery. Here there was a large deep white sink mounted on the wall, with space alongside for a washing machine. Also in the scullery was a small WC. This house was a palace compared to the one in Cotswold Gardens.
Outside, running parallel too the back door was a brick built coalhouse and outhouse.
The garden at the back of the house was rather run down. It sloped away from the house, down to the fence of the house that backed on to us from St George’s Road. The soil looked rather heavy, and full of clay. There was evidence of life in the soil, albeit just a few spindly brussel sprout plants. Near the house was a sickly looking apple tree and close by was an even worse looking plum tree. I felt sorry for Dad, if he had to try and get this garden into some sort of order. After his immaculate garden at Wotton the sight of this one must have been heart breaking for him.
Several hours of hard work later by Dad, Mum and Nan, we were finally able to sit down to sandwiches of cold meat and a Thermos flask of tea. After which we children decided we wanted to go out to play and see what our new location had to offer.
As we were about to leave, there came a knock at the front door.
“Will one of you see who that is at the door?” Mum shouted from the kitchen.
As I was near the door, I answered it.
I opened the door, and was confronted by a rather small plump lady, with short, jet black, curly hair. Her deep-set eyes were also as black as her hair. Her rounded face supported two of the rosiest cheeks I had ever seen. She wore a red cardigan, over a white blouse with a knee length pleated skirt. On her feet she wore a rather worn pair of red slippers.
“Hello love, I’m Mrs Thomas from next door. I was just wondering if there was anything that I could do to help. Have you got any means of making tea or coffee, or have you had anything to eat yet?” She enquired genuinely.
“Hello then,” I replied sheepishly, not knowing quite what to do or say.
Looking over my shoulder, back into the house I called for Mum.
“Mum! Will you come here a minute, there’s a lady from next door who wants a word with you, will you speak to her?” I concluded.
“Just a minute, Terry, I’ll be there in a sec.” Mum replied.
“Mum will be with you in a minute, Mrs Thomas.” I informed our first visitor.
“Ok! Love, I’ll wait.”
Within ten minutes of Mrs Thomas talking to Mum she was back, carrying a large tray, on which were four large mugs, a large brown teapot and several packets of digestive biscuits. This unexpected, but welcome, break gave the adults a chance to have a chat to Mrs Thomas and get to know her.
It transpired that both Mr and Mrs Thomas worked for the same company as Dad, but in different departments. They had three children, two boys Robert and George, and a girl called Wylie. Robert or Bob as he liked to be called was the same age as me. In terms of age George was the eldest and Wylie was in the middle.
Because it was considered to be rude to leave the house when we had visitors our plans to go out and play were somewhat delayed.
It was late afternoon before we could escape the house. We walked back up the road of Kingsway, towards Priory Court. Directly opposite, and across the main that ran into Dursley, we noticed what appeared to be a large hotel, but in fact it was a large Inn. Called the ‘Kingshill Inn’, which had a large car park too the right of it. Further still to the right was a well-kept cemetery, surrounded by broad green meadows and a backdrop of wooded hills.
To the left of he Inn we noticed a parade of small shops. There were, as far as I remember, six shops in the parade, The first was a grocery store and sub post office, owned by Harry Growcoot – who was a pianist at the nearby cinema – and his son Harry Junior was a schools inspector. The store was always a hive of activity. Their grocery delivery service was very popular. As was the post office section, used as a weekly meeting place for pensioners, collecting their pittances of a pension. They would congregate inside and outside the store for a weekly natter amongst themselves and with the storeowner, before moving off to the nearby Inn for a quiet drink together.
The store next to Growcoot’s was a ladies clothes shop. Not a store that I frequented.
Adjacent to this shop was a green grocers – ‘Selby Robinson’s’ – next door to that was a wool shop with a ‘ladies and gents’ hairdressing salon above. Next in the line was a small branch of the Co-op. Finally on this parade was a ‘Newsagents’ store, that sold a wide variety of goods from newspapers, magazines, confectionery, cigarettes, pipe and cigarette tobacco, boxes of chocolates, pens and pencils, wrapping paper for weddings, birthdays, and Christmas. It seemed to me to be more like a general store than a newsagent.
My most memorable find of the whole day was the location of the ‘Regal’ cinema.
I had been to the ‘Regal’ on a number of occasions while we were living in Wotton. The first visit was with a nephew of Mums. This was a birthday treat, when we went to see Judy Garland in ‘The Wizard of Oz’. I enjoyed the film, the ‘bus trip from Wotton and back again, all in all it was an enjoyable birthday.
My next encounter with the ‘Regal’ was in 1950 when along with Terry Munday – one of my school friends that lived next door – my sister Dorothy and I started attending the Saturday morning ‘ABC Minors’ cinema. We would get up early on Saturday morning have our breakfast, get washed and changed and set out, to catch the eight forty ‘bus to Dursley, across the allotment footpath and down to the ‘bus stop at the War Memorial. It would cost us 6d to get in at the cinema. For that we were entertained with two films, suitably chosen for children, two cartoons and a serial. Before the films started we were entertained, live on stage, by the cinema manager Mr Charlie James, known to us young filmgoers as ‘Uncle Charlie’. He led us in some singing, a competition or two and for those who were celebrating their birthdays in the next seven days it meant an invitation up on to the stage with him. At this stage we were all asked to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to them. They were then presented with a free pass for the following Saturday morning. Our morning’s entertainment lasted about two and half-hours. Then it was back out into daylight. The sudden movement from darkness into sometimes-bright sunlight would be momentarily painful to the eyes.
Mr Charlie James (Uncle Charlie) was a slightly built man, with short black hair, flattened with hair grease, and wore large black-framed glasses. His complexion was always pale and he had a large mole high on his left cheek. His eyes were round and brown. If eyes are windows of the soul then Charlie James’ windows were full of compassion and understanding, especially for the younger generation. Even his smile spoke volumes as to his sincerity. While on duty at the cinema he always dressed immaculately, in a black suit and waistcoat with a starched white shirt and a black bow tie. His shoes were never without a shine. Uncle Charlie lived, with his wife and daughter, in Olive Grove, a private housing estate at the rear of the cinema.
Having discovered what we thought was enough for one day we decided to head for home and see what there was for tea.
We excitedly talked to Mum and Dad about our voyage of discovery. Although Dad knew of the places we had seen he enthusiastically told us of other places that we could go and see tomorrow.
The next day, our first Sunday in Dursley, was very wet and overcast. The tree-covered hills that surrounded the Kingshill estates were shrouded in a horrible grey mist that lingered all that day and for most of the following week.
We didn’t leave the house that day. Instead we helped Mum and Nan in our bedrooms, loading our clothes in the drawers and wardrobes so that we knew exactly where everything was, ready for school. Later, Mum got us to help her clean some of Dad’s skittle and darts trophies, using ‘Duraglit’ and a soft clean duster. ‘Duraglit’ came in a small round orange and black tin. Inside the tin were small pads of material impregnated with a cleaning solution. When the pads were gently rubbed against the trophies they dulled the surface. After a few moments the soft clean duster was used to restore sheen to the items. Our hands were very dirty after this chore. In the evening we settled down to listen to the radio, and hoping that the weather would improve by tomorrow.
The following day, Monday, Dad took, Dorothy, Philip and myself to our new school in Dursley – The Church of England Primary School.
Dad had already contacted the school, before we left Wotton, too find out if they would accept us. It was also Dad’s old school.
The school was situated in the centre of Dursley, at the rear of St James’ Parish Church and next to a former Elizabethan Priory. The school was built on two levels; the upper level was entered from the footpath running along the rear of the Church. On this level there were four classrooms. There was one large room that was divided in two by a wooden partition with plain glass panels, either side of this large room were two smaller classrooms. Alongside one of these smaller rooms was a door that led to a steep wooden staircase that gave you access too the lower level of the school. This lower level contained two large classrooms where the infants were taught. On reaching the age of eight the former infants would then move on too the upper level, prior to taking the eleven plus examination. Depending on the result of this exam they would then go on too either the Grammar School – at Rednock Drive - or if they failed, on too the Secondary Modern School - on the Highfields estate.
For our introduction to the school we were greeted at the main door by the headmaster, Mr Les Gale, who took us through too his small office for the necessary paper work to be completed.
The office was indeed a small. It measured some ten feet by eight, but with the office furniture it seemed even smaller. There were two large filing cabinets, one either side of the headmaster’s brown leather topped desk. The filing cabinets were strewn with blue, , red and manila coloured folders, each one bulging with official looking papers. Four wooden shelves adorned the wall opposite Mr Gale’s desk, these contained numerous box files and text books on English and Mathematics. The two shelves on the shorter wall contained seven sports trophies – three shields and four cups along with several coloured rosettes. On the wall above the desk were several framed photographs of past and present classes. There were a couple of pictures showing Mr Gale – in gown and mortar board - presenting some type of awards, presumably at the school Prize Giving Day. Hung on the door of this small office were two black gowns, which I was to witness Mr Gale wearing on special occasions during the school year.
Mr Gale was a man in his early thirties, of average size and build. He had short black curly hair. His eyes were brown and crowned by rather large bushy eyebrows. The rather lined and weather-beaten face made him look older than his years. He wore a grey check sports jacket, blue shirt and a two toned blue striped tie. These colours I realised later were the colours of the school. Mr Gale’s clothes also included charcoal grey trousers and black lace up shoes. Listening to the headmaster, as he told us about the school, I could not help but notice his unusual soft and gentle accent. I later discovered that he originated from Devon.
Following the formalities in his office Mr Gale took us on a short tour of the classrooms.
We were first of all introduced to Mr Watson and his class. Mr Watson was a man whose years I would guess matched those of the headmaster’s. He was about five feet ten inches in height. He had thick wavy black hair, large brown eyes and a rather prominent nose. His very pale complexion contrasted markedly with his black hair. Mr Watson’s subjects were Art and English.
Our next port of call was too Mrs Jones and her class, held in the second of the two smaller classrooms. Mrs Jones was also about five feet ten inches tall, with short straight black hair and brown eyes. She had a rather square jaw line and rosy cheeks. Sometimes she wore a white blouse with a black skirt or a blue blouse with grey slacks. There were a couple of faces, in the class, that I recognised, having noticed them playing on our street. Mrs Jones’ subjects were arithmetic and geography.
Mr Gale taught in the large classroom, teaching History and English. He also conducted morning assembly.
As we took our leave of Mrs Jones and her class we were then taken down the rather steep wooden staircase to meet Mrs Ford and Mrs Martin, who taught the infants of the school.
Mrs Ford was a small lady, about five feet one or two in height. Her hair was short and white with a fringe that covered half of her forehead. Her face was round and her eyes green, with a short turned up nose and her skin was unblemished. That day she wore a red striped blouse, black skirt and a red, knotted, silk scarf and a pair of black buckled shoes.
By contrast, Mrs Martin was a tall angular woman. She was just about six feet in height. Her hair was black, shoulder length, and curly. It was because of her height that Mrs Martin’s clothes – as nice as they were - always appeared to be a size to small for her. She had beautiful brown almond shaped eyes that were enhanced with slender pencil thin eyebrows, although her complexion was rather ruddy.
Dad had arranged for us to go and register at the doctor’s surgery that afternoon, so we said a farewell to Mr Gale and his staff and looked forward to starting school the next day.
I had two enjoyable years at the Church School, as did my two brothers and sister. We made many friends during our time at this school. Many have moved on to greater things in this world, in America, Australia, New Zealand and South Africa, but still in our thoughts at home.
My first day, at the Church of England Primary School, went well. As I was a newcomer to the school and the town Mr Gale introduced me to a boy who was chosen to introduce me to the routine of the school day. Talking to the boy during the course of the day I discovered the he lived four doors away from me at Kingsway. His name was Bill Trotman. Bill was tall and lean, with short curly mouse coloured hair. His features were rather sharp and he had large round green eyes, he always wore such a friendly smile. He lived with his parents and sister. Bill remained a friend of mine during our school days and the early part of our working lives. Until, in his early thirties, Bill was tragically killed in a road traffic accident. He left a wife and one son.
Another boy that I befriended at the school, and is still a friend today after fifty years, was Michael Prodger, who also lived on the Kingsway estate. Michael, or Mick as we all called him, although more solidly built was shorter than Bill. His complexion was noticeable very ruddy and heavy with freckles, beneath a head of thick ginger hair, and green eyes.
Mick lived with his parents, in the family home, at number eight Kingsway. He had three brothers, Harry who had just completed his National Service with the army, and the twins Peter and Paul, who were inseparable during their adolescence.
There were four sisters; Edna and Janet who were married with children and their own homes, then Pam and Joyce, who like us were still at school. Apart from Mick, Pam was the only other member of the family to have ginger hair. Pam was tall, well-proportioned girl, with a lovely rounded face and a beautiful smile that illuminated her freckled complexion. Joyce was a very quiet and reserved girl. If you spoke to her and she answered in more than one sentence you were very lucky. She was shorter than Pam, with short curly auburn hair. Joyce had a pale skin colouring, with small round brown eyes, she rarely smiled and this made her appear to be constantly worrying.
Albert and Freda Prodger brought their three eldest children – Edna, Janet and Harry – too Dursley shortly after the end of World War two, from their original home in Croydon, Surrey. Pam, Mick, and Joyce, were born in Dursley as were the twins Peter and Paul.
Mr Prodger, senior, worked for R.A.Lister &Co Ltd for many years as a labourer, and by all accounts was a very conscientious worker. He was a very short man. Usually attired in a shirt and tie, waistcoat, jacket and was never seen outside without wearing his checked peal cap. In the height of summer Albert very rarely if ever removed any clothing. He always claimed that he was cooler that way. Wherever he went Albert always proceeded at the same pace of walking, I can never remember seeing him hurrying or getting stressed out. He was so laid back it just wasn’t true.
Mrs Prodger by comparison had just the opposite nature. She always appeared to be rushing about. Even in the house she hurried from one job to the next during her housework, worrying if she would get it all done. After getting the children off to school she would then rush off to the ‘Regal’ cinema where she had a part time job as a cleaner. Like her husband she too was a very hard worker. She never seemed too be out of her pinafore dress.
My strong and lasting friendship with Mick grew through our mutual interest in the cinema. At one time I even had a schoolboy crush on his sister Pam, but it wasn’t too be.
On my frequent visits to the Prodger household I was always made to feel very welcome. On every occasion I would be offered something to eat, or at least a cup of freshly brewed tea. I was made to feel part of the family. The strength of the family was in their emotional and physical ties. Something that I always felt lacking in my own family.
Dursley lacked the wide open spaces of Wotton-under-Edge. Here we were restricted to a Recreation Field or a small park. The Recreation Field was just a flat open field, with a frame containing three swings and a vandalised wooden roundabout, and a Pavilion at the top end of the field. The town’s rugby, football and cricket teams used the field for their home fixtures, and once a year, early July, the town’s Chamber of Trade organised and held a ‘Gala Day’ on the field.
The ‘Gala Day’s’ were very popular in their early days, attracting thousands of visitors from nearby towns and villages.
The attractions on the day included a ‘Gala Queen’ procession of floats. The floats were either open backed lorries or a farm tractor and trailer. ‘Gala Day’ floats were many and varied, decorated and manned by various local clubs, pubs, scouts and guides and local traders. In the afternoon the procession was led by a float containing the local beauty queen and her attendants – chosen at a function the previous evening at the Regal cinema. Starting at a point just outside of the town the procession proceeded through the streets of Dursley onto the Recreation Field, where the judges were waiting to scrutinise to various floats, pick a winner and award prizes, which would be presented to the winners by the ‘Gala Queen’.
During the many years that the ‘Gala Day’ ran many celebrities were booked to perform the opening ceremony. They included Pete Murray, former radio DJ. Bruce Hocking, a one time news reader on TWW which was once an independent local television station in Bristol. Richard Stilgoe, composer and wit, from the ‘Nationwide’ tv programme. Last but not least Acker Bilk, the well known ‘trad jazz’ musician from Somerset.
Other attractions, on the day, included, motorcycle displays (by the Gloucestershire Constabulary. Other attractions included marching displays by the Girl Guides, Tug of War, a Flower Show, in the main marquee. In other tents were displays by the W.I., Mothers Union, Trade Stands, and various side stalls that held events such as ‘Guess the Weight of the cake, ‘How many sweets in the Jar?’ ‘Lucky Dip’ intermingled with the coconut shies and a makeshift skittle alley where contestants could bowl for the prize of a pig. The person who had the highest score at the end of the day won the pig. In the background there was the strong smell of sausages and onions being cooked on the hotdog stand. In another part of the ground the aroma of fish and chips mingled with the smell of candyfloss. Situated in the far corner of the field a large tent did a brisk trade in warm beer and lagers. The whole ground buzzed with activity, people taking part and enjoying themselves, children being children. Whilst this activity continued the R A Lister & Co Ltd Silver Band played music from a bandstand that had been erected in front of the Recreation Ground Pavilion.
The main attraction for many of the visitors was the Show Jumping Competition, set up in an arena located in the middle of the field. Many famous horses of the past competed on this ground, including the famous ‘Foxhunter’ ridden by Colonel Harry Llewellyn. Another famous rider from the past equestrian world was Pat Smyth, who lived locally.
Around five thirty the crowds would begin to drift away home, having had a very enjoyable day out. Empty, the field was strewn with litter and resembled a tip. Suddenly and without warning an army of volunteers would spring into action, too clear the ground of its rubbish. In a little over an hour the field was almost back to its normal state of tidiness. The marquee, tents and side stalls were usually dismantled the following morning.
Many of us children, who were up and about early enough, congregated on the Recreation Field to see if there was anything of value that we might find. What we usually found were loose coins that people attending the previous days ‘Gala’ had dropped, occasionally we would find the odd ‘ten shilling’ note or if we were really lucky a pound note. These rich pickings would not remain in our pockets for long. At the top of the Recreation Field, on the main road, was a small café – called ‘The Pike House’. Here we spent our findings on various items of confectionery. The thriftier amongst us would save our money, to spend at the cinema during the coming week.
After the ‘Gala’ in 1953 we descended on the Recreation Field as usual on the Sunday morning. After our annual treasure hunt and trip to the ‘Pike House Café’ we went back onto the field, when I noticed that they were starting to take down the marquees and other tents from the previous days show.
There was one man that I noticed who was working on his own, taking the side sheets of canvas off the side of the main marquee on the field. Three or four of us went over to where the man was working and asked him if he needed any help.
“If you really want something to do, you can carry on unhooking the side sheets on this tent if you like.” He offered.
After an hour or so of helping the others began to lose interest and started to drift away, leaving me on my own with the man.
Around one o’clock the man announced to me that he was going for his dinner. With that I asked him, rather coyly, if I could come back and help him after dinner. If I wanted to came the reply. After saying to him that I would like to, he informed me that he would be in his little bell tent, situated in the top corner of the Recreation Ground, where he kept all of his bits and pieces (tent pegs, guy ropes, wooden mallets and spare canvas sheets etc.). When I returned to the field after having my dinner I found the man sat on the grass, inside the bell tent, with his head and back supported on a pile of canvas sheets, fast asleep and snoring like a pig and his face running with perspiration. I must have disturbed him as I entered the small tent. He awoke with a startled expression on his rather round and chubby weather beaten face.
“What, the bloody hell was that?” He said sitting bolt up right.
“Oh! It’s only you. I thought it was somebody after me canvas,” he retorted, as he wiped his perspiring face with one of the biggest red and white checked handkerchiefs that I had ever set eyes on. He then stuffed the oversized handkerchief into the side pocket of his faded brown corduroy trousers. His trousers were held up with a pair of rather wide black bracers. Around his waist was an equally wide brown belt, with a large silver buckle, which was hardly noticeable because of his rather portly stomach that overlapped his belt and trousers. His collar less striped shirt was unbuttoned to the waist revealing a hairy barrel shaped chest. The excess weight that the man carried made him very breathless with the slightest exertion. As the man climbed to his feet to resume work I noticed that not only was he rather rotund be he was also not very tall. His black greasy looking hair was rather patchy on the top of his head, but rather bushy around the sides. His eyes were brown and oval shaped. Below his puggy shaped nose he wore a bushy moustache that attempted to conceal a small deformity on his upper lip.
The rest of the afternoon was spent helping the man dismantle several tents and folding the canvas sheets, which were tied with rope around the middle and then stacked with the rest awaiting transport. The lorry, used to transport the tents, did not belong to the man, but to a local coal merchant and coach owner, by the name of Eddie Jones & Sons. After all of the tents and stalls had been dismantled they were piled up in the middle of the field awaiting collection.
Throughout the dismantling of the tents the man
While we waited the arrival of the lorry the man invited me to accompany him to the ‘Pike House’ for a well-earned cup of tea and a cake, his treat. The man was a well-known and respected character in Dursley. As we sat in the café enjoying our break, the man spoke at length to many people, exchanging banter and a joke with many as they came in and as they left. Then it was back to the field to help load the lorry. By the time we had unloaded the lorry at the man's yard it was beginning to get dark. It was then that heard Dad’d voice in the background, talking to the man, who he obviously knew.
“Oh I see, he’s your boy is he Bern? I had no idea, he didn’t say. He has worked hard today though, I will say that for him.” He concluded smiling at Dad.
While Dad was talking to Mr Jones, the man handed me a pound note, thanking me for all of my help during the day. Rather embarrassed by his generosity I thanked him for my reward. I had not expected any reward, it was just that I had enjoyed helping out.
To be continued …………………………………. |
