TASHY DID - A LIFE
Hey kids, grand-kids, and any other nosey people who are reading these pages, this is for you to read now or sometime in the future. It may tell you a little
about how life was 60 or so years ago and rather more about me. Why am I doing it?
In the years after my father's death, way back in 1981, I kept thinking of things I wished I'd talked to him about. After my mother's death, just over
thirteen years later, there was less of a knowledge-vacuum because mother talked more about her past.
Just recently, my daughter and I unearthed my mother's diaries which went back to 1929, when she was just 13 years old. This reminded me of the 1998
incident with my 6 year old and I decided to put down here the story of my life so my children and grandchildren could, if they wished, read about what I had done. I would use my
memory and those diaries to build a picture from 1949 to the present day and add some personal observations.
So, here we go. Each week we will have a new year with preceding weeks being archived. In the first few years, as I will have less to say, probably, I will
add some info about your grandparents and their parents.
1971
Those peaceful years after I had got myself back to school were beginning to end. In March of this year father officially retired. He didn’t actually retire as he immediately took a job with the British Productivity Council but who they were and what he did, I have no idea. On his retirement he gave a party to all his staff but omitted to ask mother. This rang warning bells, they had recovered from father’s behaviour in 1956, and, after a little investigation, mother found out that father had been unfaithful again. This time, as I was older, she confided in me and also this was when she told me about his previous marriage.
To this day, I have no idea whether it was his decision or her decision not to tell my sister and I. It must have been pretty nerve-racking on occasions as most of the rest of the family knew. This time, mother began talking about leaving though I have no idea where we would have gone. She then said father would have to leave. I took her side in so far as I agreed father was wrong. However, she told me a few days later that she had told father that I wanted him to move out. This wasn’t true. The atmosphere in the house was terrible. We ate together, we lived together but nothing was pleasant. The day mother told me what she had said, father, a rather pathetic figure at this moment, was out in the garden, weeding the flower beds. It took a lot of courage, because I had no idea what reactions I would get from either parent, but I went out and told father I had not asked for him to leave. I had no idea how they would sort things out but I did not personally want him to go. It is possible that what happened over the next few months distracted them from their problems, while it may also have contributed to my decisions too.
Knowing what I now know about life and relationships, I would no longer solely place the blame for what happened on father. Maybe this is partly through personal experiences but also as I have now been through relationships and seen how they can wrong. The one who makes the most noise usually gets the most sympathy. Father was a very quite man, a very private man. I never knew which way he would vote in elections, he always maintained it was a personal matter. His only family left was his youngest sister and I am certain he did not confide in her. I am almost certain that she had disapproved of some of his earlier actions although, quite possibly, without knowing the full facts, a trait she displayed some years later too. Suffice it to say that mother, who told quite a few people, got the sympathy vote and was seen as the total victim while father was seen as the “bad” person.
There were several things happening in my life at this time. The family atmosphere was one of them. I used to come home on the tube at night and see all the little houses with lights in their windows and I was beginning to think about moving out into my own place. In June I had gone on holiday on my own for the first time. True, I had gone back to Norfolk and the friends we always stayed with, but during my time there I had spent time doing what I wanted. Then straight after that my parents and sister had also gone away leaving me at home with the cat. I was enjoying my time alone and beginning to look forward to living alone. But it never happened, well not for another 18 years.
My life still consisted of work and cricket and, although I had been in my new role since last September, I had made no real friends there. Most of the staff were female and had known each other some time. In April, a new girl joined and, although she wasn’t working with me, I did quotes, she did renewals, she sat with me for a week or so to learn the systems we used.
Come my birthday, in July, I took some of these people out for a drink, together with some from my old section, and toward the end there was only me, this new girl, another girl and a guy from my new section. I happened to mention Hampton Court maze, I have no recollection why nor if this was somehow staged, and the new girl said she had never been there. The others then said, well you should both go and two Sundays later I was picking this young lady up from The Monument tube station and we spent the day at Hampton Court, although we never made the maze.
It is not my intention here to discuss my personal relationships, with one important exception. In any case for some of you the other person is called mother and I will not get into any form of judgemental opinion of anyone else. I will, as I recall them, tell you the facts. I can say no more really because I have no idea what the other person was thinking nor what ruled their actions.
The end result of this Hampton Court meeting was that we went out again for the following two weekends, met each other’s families and then, eighteen days after that first meeting, got engaged. Officially this happened on 1 October, we had gone out on 1 August and so it seemed logical (really) to arrange the wedding for 1 April 1972. One fact I can give you is that we came from very different backgrounds and whether this contributed to later problems I cannot say. In the same way that she felt, I think, rather out-of-place, with my family and friends, so I felt exactly the same with hers. One difference though was that, to others, I never knowingly mocked her lifestyle; her friends soon heard about my father’s wearing of a cravat and mother’s special bone-china. This was always told to engender ridicule. At the time I thought little of it. It was embarrassing for a moment but then forgotten.
Except it wasn't. Now I would actually call it a form of abuse. To constantly, and it did happen constantly, have the lifestyle in which you were raised, told as a joke to all manner of friends, it not pleasant. If only we knew as much as we do when we are older at this early time of life, things would be so very different. Such behaviour is, I believe, built into a person's character during their formative years. The only reason to make fun of others, unless done purely for laughs, is a lack of confidence in yourself. The same applies to bullying. You do it if you lack a good opinion of yourself. If you are happy with who you are, it matters not at all how someone else is. If you don't care how others view you, you have no need to bully, or ridicule, someone else to divert attention from you. It took me many years to understand this and, to be honest, much hurt and pain.
Now, children, because if you remember that is who I am writing for, there will be times in these blogs when, for the first time, you hear my side of a story that may have been told to you by someone else. It is for you to decide which is true. Let's just say I know and, to me, that is all that matters. When we fixed an engagement date of 1 October it was decided to have a party. My family didn't do parties. The only birthday party which included friends as well as family that I had was for my 21st. I never had a party as a child. Therefore, the party, the arrangements and most of the decisions about who to invite were left to my future wife's family and it was held at her mother's house. It was a small house and it was packed. My close family were there but none of my friends; maybe I didn't really have any.
About halfway through my future wife's mother told everyone to sit down as she wanted to make a short speech and give a toast. There weren't enough seats. My future wife decided to sit on her brother-in-law's knee. No problem. One of the female friends that had been invited from our work, not I hasten to add my friend, said “well if you don't want to sit on your fiancé's knee, I will”. Totally innocent. However I have heard, many times, this story told in another context. Suffice it to say, the above is what happened. There was nothing more to it.
However, in November we started looking for a house. The first week we took my father out into the Luton area, there was no way we could afford anything in my part of London, but I didn’t like Luton at all. My parents had offered to provide the deposit for the house, using the house-keeping money I had paid, while I would get a staff mortgage from the GRE. By the way these were only offered to married men in those days. Actually, I assume they were offered to shortly-to-be married men.
The next weekend we drove out to Colchester and, after buying a local paper, found a little bungalow in the village of Alresford, about 4 miles east of Colchester. It was advertised for £5,800. We rang the people and went to look. We liked it, it had that cosy feel I had envisaged on those tube journeys. We were told that someone else was interested but if we offered £5,900, they would accept. We left, I rang father, after all he would now be paying £590 instead of £580, although in Luton he would have more than likely be paying £1,000, and he agreed so we went back, made the upped offer, paid £100 deposit to the people and I’d bought a house. Today that £5,900 bungalow is worth around £175,000.
Many things happened over the rest of the year and of course Christmas provided that usual family problem; who spends what with whom. I honestly don’t remember what happened.
Earlier in the year I took on more responsibility at work. While I was at Hampton Court, back in August, my boss had suffered a serious heart attack. I had known him ever since I had started work there three years ago and he had been very good to me. I enjoyed working for him so when I went in on the Monday and learned what had happened I was really shocked. I was called in by the guy above my boss and he said initially they would not bring anyone in and I would have to do all the work. As this would have meant checking my own calculations, he told me he would do that.
However, this situation continued for over three moths and it wasn’t until November that my boss returned although he still left at 3pm each day. I not only had increased responsibility but also a far bigger workload. Whilst my work was being checked, I knew this other guy had hardly any knowledge of what we did. My boss had also been about to re-write our 4-page quotation form and I was left to do this. It was then I discovered how much I enjoyed writing. The new form was introduced before my boss returned and, when he did get back, he complimented me on the layout, text and structure. One of the perks of his absence was that I got my own short-hand typist to whom I would dictate forms and any letters that needed to be written, each day. She was a lovely middle-aged lady who took care of me in the early stages by making sure I didn’t write anything stupid. She had worked there for years and I was very grateful. Normally only people with offices had short hand typists, others would have to send hand-written pages to the typing pool or use a Dictaphone to dictate their letters to audio typists. It felt pretty good sitting in the open plan office with my typist sitting next to me taking notes.
Life was good although the occasional embarrassment still continued. Needless to say my mother soon decided she didn't really like my now fiancée. I think some of this may be as my fiancée was slightly injudicious with whom she spoke when making fun of mother in particular. I later discovered, many years later, that one of mother's best friends was singularly unimpressed with my choice of partner, having been told things about mother. Some people will accept people as they are even if they wouldn't act like it themselves. To them they are who they are, warts and all so to make fun of someone's friend isn't that sensible.
The next weekend we drove out to Colchester and, after buying a local paper, found a little bungalow in the village of Alresford, about 4 miles east of Colchester. It was advertised for £5,800. We rang the people and went to look. We liked it, it had that cosy feel I had envisaged on those tube journeys. We were told that someone else was interested but if we offered £5,900, they would accept. We left, I rang father, after all he would now be paying £590 instead of £580, although in Luton he would have more than likely be paying £1,000, and he agreed so we went back, made the upped offer, paid £100 deposit to the people and I’d bought a house. Today that £5,900 bungalow is worth around £175,000.
Many things happened over the rest of the year and of course Christmas provided that usual family problem; who spends what with whom. I honestly don’t remember what happened.
Earlier in the year I took on more responsibility at work. While I was at Hampton Court, back in August, my boss had suffered a serious heart attack. I had known him ever since I had started work there three years ago and he had been very good to me. I enjoyed working for him so when I went in on the Monday and learned what had happened I was really shocked. I was called in by the guy above my boss and he said initially they would not bring anyone in and I would have to do all the work. As this would have meant checking my own calculations, he told me he would do that.
However, this situation continued for over three moths and it wasn’t until November that my boss returned although he still left at 3pm each day. I not only had increased responsibility but also a far bigger workload. Whilst my work was being checked, I knew this other guy had hardly any knowledge of what we did. My boss had also been about to re-write our 4-page quotation form and I was left to do this. It was then I discovered how much I enjoyed writing. The new form was introduced before my boss returned and, when he did get back, he complimented me on the layout, text and structure. One of the perks of his absence was that I got my own short-hand typist to whom I would dictate forms and any letters that needed to be written, each day. She was a lovely middle-aged lady who took care of me in the early stages by making sure I didn’t write anything stupid. She had worked there for years and I was very grateful. Normally only people with offices had short hand typists, others would have to send hand-written pages to the typing pool or use a Dictaphone to dictate their letters to audio typists. It felt pretty good sitting in the open plan office with my typist sitting next to me taking notes.
Life was good although the occasional embarrassment still continued. Needless to say my mother soon decided she didn't really like my now fiancée. I think some of this may be as my fiancée was slightly injudicious with whom she spoke when making fun of mother in particular. I later discovered, many years later, that one of mother's best friends was singularly unimpressed with my choice of partner, having been told things about mother. Some people will accept people as they are even if they wouldn't act like it themselves. To them they are who they are, warts and all so to make fun of someone's friend isn't that sensible.
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