Chapter 8

We were married at St Beunos Church, Berriew on January 8th, 1944. Noel McKenzie was my best man, ably assisted by Cyril Coleman. We were among the first couples to have a peal of bells since the start of the war. Church bells were only to be rung as a warning of invasion, and the ban had just been relaxed, Doreen's father was a member of the bell ringing team, and we were certainly the first in the county of Montgomery. The Church Lych Gate was just the width of the road from Doreen's home where her parents provided the wedding breakfast, a super meal which I would have liked more time to savour, but we had a train to catch at Montgomery. It was still wartime, and rail travel far from comfortable. The mainline train at Shrewsbury was packed and we had to stand in the corridor most of the way to London. Cammell Laird had granted me one week special leave, and we had booked into the Regent Palace Hotel. In wartime Britain there was not much choice for honeymooning. Most seaside resorts were cluttered with barbed wire and most hotels were closed. The hotel bill for three nights was three pounds, twelve shillings!

Almost our first action on settling in to our new home was to procure a cat. "Snookie," a striped Semi-Persian was daughter of one of the many "Pentlands" cats. Bunny brought the tiny kitten on the train and she was delivered to us on a tandem! She was with us for almost twenty years. We were never without one or more cats throughout our married life.

Furnishing our new home was quite a problem. Mother provided some of the essentials, and as newly-weds, we were entitled to coupons for utility furniture, but initially, we only furnished one living room and one bedroom. Bunny brought us a carpet from India as a wedding present, which was a real luxury.

When shopping, seeing a queue forming one instinctively joined it, not knowing whether it would be for fifty scrubbing brushes, ten aluminium pans, or, as on one occasion two lawn mowers. We had our name on a waiting list for a vacuum cleaner.

Our house in Bailey's Lane was close to Halewood station and I commuted to Liverpool by steam train, on which I met and chatted to Roy Matthews. He was an electrical engineer with the admiralty who had been seconded from Portsmouth to "western approaches" headquarters in Liverpool. He lodged on the outskirts of Halewood in a farmhouse with his wife, Eileen, and son, David. We very soon became friends, and Eileen was to be a great comfort to Doreen when she lost her first baby. Many years later we spent a holiday in their home in Portsmouth. We had been considering buying a caravan, and called in at a local sales depot just to see what was available in the south. The outcome was that a very keen sales manager persuaded us to buy a nice little second hand one, organising a tow bar for the car and even providing a cheque to pay for it. We were then the proud owners of a caravan, three hundred miles from home.

Evening classes had started again in Liverpool, Grattan (Gus) Thomas was a fellow student. He had the typical "scouse" sense of humour. The first time he, his mother and sister Molly visited us on the train from Garston, the local brass band was preparing for some function in the village. They were very impressed that we had the band out to welcome them. Molly later married Norman Harris, Grattan went into teaching at technical college, he never married.

In the summer of 1944, Mother, Doreen and I went to Caterham for John Forster's christening. Hitler had just started launching the V1s. (Buzz bombs) "Pentlands" was on "bomb alley" and during the afternoon several passed up the valley towards London. Each time, we all rushed out to the terrace to watch, and each time, Mother forgot her glasses, and never actually saw one. We had the excitement of seeing one pursued by a Spitfire. Later when the V2s were falling on London, Mother went with a group from the WVS to do relief work in the east end. She drove a car for the WVS throughout the war, I can remember spending many hours trying to reconcile the mileage in her log book with the recorded mileage, which was considerably higher, due to her various illicit sources of petrol.

Everyone is expected to remember what they were doing on VE Day. We did nothing very exciting. In the afternoon we went into Liverpool and joined the crowd in Castle Street near the Town Hall. In the evening we cycled to Hale and joined the singing and dancing around a huge bonfire on the village green - That's it!

The following year Doreen became pregnant. Sadly she had a miscarriage at six months. She was desolate and was convinced she would never be able to reach full term. When she did become pregnant again, our doctor insisted that she should remain in bed. By good fortune I had just changed my job, and worked for pharmaceutical manufacturers, Ward Blenkinsop, one and a half miles from home, and with the aid of an excellent daily help, I was able to cope.

As I was first among my friends to marry, we had many visitors at weekends, and I soon learned to make cakes, scones and pastry, with which to feed them. We provided more than just sustenance. Will Strachan met his future wife, Mair. Others brought their girl friends for "approval," at least, we liked to think so. Mair had a similar background to Doreen - her home was in Carno, a village in mid Wales, and she was a nurse at the "Royal." At their wedding in Carno, the train taking them on their honeymoon blew its whistle right down the valley until it was out of sight - quite a "send off." The train would be a "double header" (two engines) in order to make the steep ascent from Llanbrynmair to Talerddig. I am reminded by Mair that the station staff had also placed detonators on the line to add to the air of celebration.

Mair also reminds me that one of the things that attracted me to Doreen was her "straight" stocking seams! There were so many, another was her "twinkling" walk. I could instantly recognise her foosteps in the dark.

Noel brought Norma, his bride to be, to see us in a Delage Straight Eight, (eight cylinders in a line), the bonnet of which was as long as the average car. Offering cake at tea time Doreen assured Norma it was home made - not shop "bath mat." Only later did we learn that Norma was daughter of "Cubbons," a large chain of cake-shops.

When Louise was born on January 6th 1947, Jim Strachan, who had been a constant visitor, actually saw Louise before I did. He just had to be her godfather. I hadn't seen many new born babies at that time, but I can say, without prejudice that she was the most beautiful new born baby ever. Sadly Doreen's father died of cancer just ten days before she was born. Jim still visited us often, and brought with him Muriel Owen, a friend of his sister, Jean. When they married, Louise, then nearly three, presented Muriel with a posy as they left the Church.

Mother was on the move again! First for a brief period to a smaller house in Hale, which she called her "Dolls house," followed by a huge house in Aigburth with cellars, attics and a large garden - she always said she had to have "space."

Louise was born into the terrible winter of 1947. It was a long winter, with arctic conditions, even the sea froze. Strikes and absenteeism in the newly nationalised coal mines, coupled with snow drifts up to seven feet deep on the railways, led to fuel shortages and power cuts. Most factories were on short time including Ward Blenkinsop. Our coal house was literally swept clean with a dust pan and brush and we went foraging in the local woods for fallen branches. Our coalmen let us have a few bags of peat to supplement the meagre coal ration. It was not until May that the weather really improved.

After nearly two years in Aigburth, Mother decided that she would like to return to Jersey. She bought a caravan on the island to use as a base for house-hunting. Later, I had an urgent phone message that she was seriously ill and I flew to Jersey. (My first ever flight) Fortunately she had made friends with another Liverpool expatriate, Gertie Roper, who had taken her into her home. The night I arrived, we had to summon the doctor, and she had an emergency operation the following day. Her condition failed to improve and Noel McKenzie offered to accompany Doreen, Louise, (then nearly two) and me, to Jersey. A memorable journey, the train from Liverpool to Euston was two hours late due to fog. A gallant taxi driver took us from Euston to Waterloo in what must have been a record time. I think he must have broken every rule in the book. We had an indifferent dinner of boiled cod and cauliflower on the boat train, followed by a very rough sea crossing - (it was December) - we were all sick except Noel. Gertie kindly put us up, and Doreen prepared tempting little meals for Mother in her kitchen. We returned by air - we could not face the boat again. Mother still made no progress and Bunny (who was now ashore as Marine Superintendent, Cunard, London) chartered a plane (a D/H Dragon) and flew her to Speke. Doreen nursed her at home for some weeks, but it was to no avail. She died in Garston Cottage Hospital on 5th May 1949.

From earlier references it will become apparent that my mother was a remarkable lady. She was the natural daughter of my grandmother, but not of my grandfather, who legally adopted her at the time of their marriage. She had boundless energy and went everywhere at the run. She had an abundance of self confidence, feared nothing and held nobody in awe. I remember an incident when she had a dispute with the electricity company, (at that time Liverpool Corporation), letters from whom were signed by the City Engineer, with a string of letters after his name. Eventually mother visited their offices and demanded to speak with him. I can imagine the horror of the underling on the counter to such a demand. But speak to him she did, and received his personal apology. I can still remember his name, "W. Legh-Smith." While Doreen was still nursing she had been promised leave for Christmas day, her first ever, suddenly cancelled due to an internal move. Mother "bearded" matron in her den, unknown to Doreen, who was later summoned to matron's office and told her leave was restored. Her physical courage was demonstrated by her work for the WVS particularly the time spent in the East end of London during the V2 bombing. I think her letter to Bunny and me to be read after her death epitomises her attitude to life.

Greystoke, Hale

1945

My two dear sons,

When you read this I shall have passed on, but the old body will still remain to be disposed of - do this with as little ceremony as possible, and please don't feel sad about it, because I've had a moderately happy life, and its what we all have to face - so scatter my ashes in some lonely spot and think, "well at last Ma will have to stay put" but the four winds will make it less monotonous.

My jewellery let your wives choose as they want, I know they will be fair about it, and arrange my possessions as you each want, for I know (like me) that possessions don't mean a great deal - but I'd like some of the old things to become heirlooms. Think of me kindly and don't be sad, for I shall be happy in some queer spirit world with other queer spirits like mine.

Mother

We inherited Polly, an African grey parrot that had been wished on mother by a friend when we moved to Liverpool. She (we never discovered her sex, but always referred to her as "she") had quite a large vocabulary, but was remarkable for the quality of her mimicry. Many a time I have said in an exasperated voice, "I'm coming mother," only to discover I was being called by Polly. She copied the Liverpool accent of one of our daily helps to perfection. She was also very apt. On seeing the tea pot she would make the appropriate "pouring" noise. Less attractive was copying the "squeal" of the coal bucket handle. Finding someone to look after her when we were away was no trouble, getting her back was the problem. The cry was always, "Just leave her another week." She had the habit, common to grey parrots, of plucking her feathers, and on more than one occasion looked "ready for the oven."

We had Doreen's father's car, an Austin 7 Ruby Saloon, and later that summer we went for a holiday in Scarborough, taking her mother. On the return journey we called on Doreen's Aunt, Sue Atkinson in Kirklington in North Yorkshire. Thereafter we were frequent visitors to each other's houses, and since Aunt Sue and Uncle Tom died, Doug and Lilian have remained good friends, spending time with us in our various homes.

Doreen, with some other ladies in the village decided to organise a Halewood branch of the Women's Institute. Doreen was elected the first president. She was invited to attend the silver jubilee of the branch twenty-five years later as guest of honour.

I had the pleasure of working with Albert Hogg at Ward Blenkinsop. He and his wife were frequent visitors to Baileys Lane. Gert was such a joyous girl in those days. Later she was never able to come to terms with Albert's death from cancer while in his early fifties.

In 1950 I made a significant career change when I joined R Silcock and Sons, as works Engineer at their Liverpool mill. Around this time there were signs that Halewood would take the overspill from Liverpool and that the Ford motor company had plans to build a factory in the area. These signs prompted us to think about moving house and we started house-hunting.

Doreen favoured Hoylake as the place to look for our new home. She knew it well, having nursed at the Ellen Gonner children's Convalescent Home on the promenade before starting her training at The Royal. Most of the houses we looked at were either modern and cramped or older and dark. 14 Heron Road Meols was the last house on our list, and when we saw it from the outside, we nearly turned away as it was not very imposing, but we had made an appointment which we felt we should keep. As we passed through the outer hall into the spacious and light dining room, we knew we need look no further and decided to buy it there and then. How right that decision proved to be. We had nineteen very happy years in this house. It had everything we wanted - spacious, light rooms, four good bedrooms, plenty of utility rooms, and a lovely mature "family" garden, and was less than a mile from the promenade and sea.

After moving in, it was not very long before Louise was referring to "Auntie Lena" and "Auntie Marjorie." Lena Michael and Marjorie Malone and their families were to become very dear friends.