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Going back to my early years is not easy, this story is
from memory and not researched and my memory of those years
is poor, it is like a sort of half life, and the more I
look back the more difficult it is. I remember bits and
pieces, streets and places, and one or two incidents stick
out, some of the names in this story of schools for instance
may not be quite right. one story I remember happened when
I was about nine, I went to the fish shop after dark, and
on my way home with a parcel of fish and chips and a large
bottle of pop, a bloke tried to get hold of me, he may on
reflection have just wanted to pinch the fish and chips,
I made a run for it and fell, badly cutting my head but
reached home safe and sound. The matter was not reported,
my face was wiped clean and a bandage put round my head,
then we had our supper, my mother was proud of me and told
people how I had arrived home with the fish and chips together
with the bottle of pop intact.
My dad came from a family that was quite well off but he
was the black sheep of the family, he was well educated
but never seemed to stick at a job, he liked to have a bob
or two on the gee gees and when the first world war started
went into the army as a private and was sent to France,
I bet that shook him, he was involved in some of the big
battles and when he come home at the end of the war he suffered
from mustard gas burns.
I don't know how he met my mother, a tall smart good looking
woman going from the photos I have seen of her, but they
were married and had four children, I had an elder brother
called Robert Dean, Bob to his friends, and two sisters.
Bob for some reason was adopted by my fathers family and
went off to live with the posh folk on Carlton Grange. We
lived on Chapel Fold, one day my mother walked out and left
us, my dad had to get a woman in to look after us, a sort
of house keeper. They later had a baby girl and called her
Pat which was the same as my sisters, that made my mother
mad I can tell you.
Out of the blue my mother came back saying that we were
living in filth and took me and my sisters away with her
to live at a house in Dewsbury. It's funny how some things
stick out but I remember one night when I was about nine
my mother was out leaving me to look after the children
when the light went out in what was a big old house, it
was pitch dark, we were able to find a bit of a candle and
light it hoping mother would soon be home, I had a look
round but was not able to find any money for the meter.
when the candle was almost done we collected the candle
fat and tried to make candles with the threads pulled out
of the coconut matting on the kitchen floor. I don't know
how it ended, its a bit like a dream in my mind, with no
ending.
My Mother used to send me from Dewsbury to Liversedge Labour
exchange where my dad worked to collect her maintenance,
and my dad used to give me sixpence for myself which I kept
secret as my mother may have taken from me, when he sent
less than the full amount she used to make a real fuss.
I remember once that I lost the envelope with the money
on the Empire Theatre steps while I was looking at the display
pictures, when I arrived home without the money there was
hell to play, lucky for me I found the money under a poster
of Issy Bonn. On an other occasion I went to collect the
money my dad was off sick and my mother only gave me the
fare one way, so there I was stranded about six mile from
home with no money for the bus fare, I had to put on a show,
I sat on a wall crying and a kind lady gave me the fare
home when I told that I had lost my money. When you lived
the life that I did you had to live by your wits, apart
from one auntie called Betty I cannot remember any member
of my mothers large family ever giving me a birthday or
Christmas gift. My grandmother never seemed to smile or
speak kindly to me and I look on today’s grandparents
in amazement and think that kids now don't know how lucky
they are.
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