I duly continued my magical mystery tour by taking a walk along ‘our road’ looking up the names of neighbours found in the 1939 Register. I doubted I would recall many but to my surprise many came flooding back: Like the lady who sold toffee apples from her back kitchen window; the Sunday school teacher who also taught woodwork with his father in their shed. The ‘rogue’ family I was warned against mixing with, and others the homes of school friends or playmates. In the end I knew it was too much in inflict on the Forum, so I decided to be selective and leave the full story for my Tribal pages. Here is the redacted version, which I think an appropriate word for anything relating to the 1939 Register.
The Rolands’: They would become our next door neighbours after we moved in in 1946 and Mr Rolands had the boyhood envious job of Train Driver, as did Mr Hill directly opposite. When their shifts coincided both men would set out on their bike complete with railway accruements -lamps, flags etc. - which fascinated me as a kid. Both families produced a son who were the ‘big boys’ of our immediate neighbourhood. About 4 or 5 years older than me and my mate Pete (who lived 6 doors down the road) and another year or so older than our other playmates. They were not bullies but their ages gave them leverage to decide the rules of any game and were the final arbiters when there were disagreements. Have many happy memories of play at that time and knew both boys right up to the time they were called up for national service.
The Claytons: Our other next door neighbours and the ones with whom we most interacted. Mr Clayton played the piano as did my mother so both houses had pianos (I was later to take lessons myself). He was also a chain smoker extraordinary and what I remember about his piano was cigarette ash over the keys. Mrs Clayton made the most divine Pearl Barley stews and would shout my name over the gate (we had a low level connecting gate between our two gardens) telling me she had a bowl of stew if I was interested. (When was I not?) Looking back, I think I should have considered my mother more when I told her Mrs Clayton made the best stew in the world. Mind you I though my mother’s liver, bacon and onions was also the best ever, and this time had to mind not repeating this too often once married!
Diagonally over the road were the Breretons (we pronounced it Breetons) an Irish family with delightful daughters with whom I was quite infatuated. Perhaps it was as well that even the youngest daughter was a fair bit older, because in the mid 50’s one of the girls found herself in the ‘you know what way' and became the talk of the neighbourhood and caused Mom to bully Dad into giving me a talk about the birds and the bees, which was quite comical looking back.
Last but not least came the Shufflebottoms (yes really). They lived directly across from my Mate’s and were also a big family, again mainly of girls. One Friday evening when it was our ‘Pictures’ night Pete (2 years my senior) told me he would not be coming that evening as he was taking Ann Shufflebottom instead. I was distraught and could not believe he would abandon me for a girl!! I even complained to Mom who took me to one side and said that sort of thing happened with boys and my time would come. (I was not consoled and vowed that would be the end of her friendship (then of some 10 years standing) because he had abandoned me for a girl)
(Cutting to the chase our friendship nevertheless lasted for over 60 years until sadly he died in 2010. From time to time -at least once a year – I reminded him of his desertion on that Friday night which always set us both off in a bout of reminiscence and a groan from our respective wives who had heard it all before).
That ends my 1939 Register tour of ‘our road’ and offers but a brief glimpse of the memories it invoked. I enjoyed the experience so much I have now decided to investigate where my paternal Grandparents lived nearer town (Birmingham city centre). That was ‘old Birmingham’ full of back-to-back areas where everyone knew everyone and of course where Dad grew up.
