Sometimes my mind just meanders off into the past, and I picture things from my yesterdays. It's amazing how something pops up, that I'd totally forgotten about, and that leads to others.
I grew up in London, until my early teens. In many ways, it has defined me. Obviously with my accent - and oddly, when I get mad and the cockney comes out. Sometimes words I haven't used in fifty or sixty years. Or viualizing something and realising, wow, I don't do that any more/see people doing that any more, and wondering, how did I lose that? When did it stop?
When I was born, England was 10 years post-war, but only 1 year post-rationing. There were still streets that had been bombed out during the Blitz, demolishing and rebuilding a city took time. Going from Leytonstone to Hackney on the bus, 1960-1966, we'd go past rows of Nissan huts and prefabs, temporary homes for those bombed out in it.
People were still frugal, very frugal. One of my favourite foods back then was bread and dripping, a staple in the East End. I loved it. The mere thought of it now turns my stomach. Dripping is the meat juices and fat left in the pan after cooking meat.
My nan didn't have a fridge. She'd make a big pot of rabbit stew, and I'd have that with bread (it's still a fave when I can get rabbit). The pot sat on the stove overnight and was boiled up the next day. There was no such thing as leftovers. Potatoes and cabbage were fried up in bacon grease as bubble and squeak, and many "teas" were jam sandwiches, baked beans on toast, egg on toast, or paste sandwiches. Amazing how one little pot of Shippam's could make sandwiches for 3 or 4 of us.
My other nan used to slice bread by holding the bread up against her chest, over her pinny, and cutting with the knife blade going towards her. I think my mum did that sometimes as well. I tried to do it the other day and just couldn't get the hang of it.
I loved school. I was at George Tomlinson from 1960-1966, infants and juniors. The headmistress in the infants was Mrs Edwards,
and she was a darling. All the kids wanted to hold her hand, and walk with her, during playtime. She was a smiling grandmotherly figure and much loved. In the Juniors, we had Mr Bradbury,
who was austere and caned the boys when they misbehaved. Miss Lynes, in the above pic, was my best teacher in the Juniors, I had her for 2 years. She was touted as very strict but was actually pretty awesome.
I used to go to the Methodist Church on the High Road on Sundays,
with a lady named Barbara Vann. Her parents owned a health food shop on Kirkdale Rd, and I met her at their home at 33 Lytton Rd, when I went there to take piano lessons.I was 7 or 8 at the time. At the church, Reverend Johnson was the vicar, and they had a Girl's Life Brigade (and Boy's Brigade) group there so I joined that. We used to march through the town, on parade as we called it back then, the first Sunday of every month. The Boy's Brigade Band would play and we'd be joined by other groups like the WI and veterans and such. The church also had us collecting money for the JMA (Juvenile Missionary Association) and I had a book and collected 1d or 2d after church, every Sunday, off willing donors.
This is where my thoughts meandered when I woke up in the middle of the night, and I thought, yeah, I need to write all that down.
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