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.
1987
I'm going to compartmentalise this year.
Work was horrible. Shall I itemise that for you. The new purpose-built building wasn't built for the purpose of running training sessions. We had a whole floor. At the very back was a minute canteen which could hold about 10 people. Food was not allowed in the 2 classrooms, which sadly looked just like that. Sometimes we had 30 trainees in a day. They had 2 breaks each day, weren't allowed to leave the building except at lunchtime; good game, good game. The 5 tutors had an office about 10 ft long and 6 foot wide. All 5 were in on Mondays. They constantly complained to me. I had no input in the design. I was helpless. I had an office slightly smaller that I shared with my secretary. If we shut the door, we died. There were no windows and no ventilation. The two admin staff, nothing to do with me, had an office about 10 foot by 12 foot. As well as the two classrooms there was dedicated computer room which I did have a say in, just in time. I managed to persuade them to built the desks for the computers around the outside of all walls so that, with screen pointing inward, the tutor, usually me, could see what everyone was doing at one time.
So, in summary, the premises were shit and I got the complaints from the tutors about something over which I had no control.
Next the courses. I designed all of these and at first the tutors had no complaints but over six months when we were in the new building, that all changed. This didn't work and I should rewrite it; this took too long, this was too short. I had hoped I had employed people with a bit of a brain who could take a session and, where necessary, improvise. It appeared I hadn't. Then they complained about my secretary who also did their photocopying/ They expected her to do any typing they needed which was not in her job description and also a few other things. They made her feel very unhappy.
Now I have to point out that my wife, who had taken a dislike to this girl when we travelled with her, was in full time as a tutor. She may or may not have been stirring things. I cannot say. However, I can say that when we were at home in the evenings, she did let me know her criticisms of the way I ran the training.
Then the Head of Training, a woman, not sexist but factual, began to take the tutors, all female, side as well. I was Head Tutor and should, so my contract said, be responsible for all aspects of in-house training. We were asked, unbeknown to me, if we wanted to be part of a new style of tutoring. There would be a large grant to participate. It would mean a complete change in how we treated our trainees. The boss and the head of training agreed. Then I was asked if the tutors wanted to do it. I said no. What we did worked very well, thank you. Over my head the Head of Training spoke to the tutors who agreed or were persuaded, they knew I had said no, and I was told that someone would be coming up to give us a few days training in how to use the new material.
The guy, arrived, the tutors went into a session, not in our training rooms but in the plush boardroom downstairs and I didn't. I have no idea what happened but was told that they said they couldn't do it unless I agreed so the boss of this company, who were obviously be paid far too much to implement their wonderful idea, got in his helicopter in London and came down to Colchester to convince me. He failed. We didn't participate and, in fact, when the tutors found out what was involved they admitted it was a pretty stupid idea anyway, although we did lose the grant.
On a personal level my wife and I were drifting further and further apart and the atmosphere at home was intolerable. I obviously felt I was getting no support from her at work; indeed I felt she was actually working against me. In my view the children were suffering. My wife argued with everything I told the children. I said my daughter at 12 was too young to watch Eastenders, I was wrong. I was once working downstairs and my daughter had her music on very loud and I came up and told her to turn it down. My wife said it wasn't loud, I was old-fashioned. Ten minutes later an irate neighbour knocked on the door and said could we turn that bloody row down.
We began to talk about separating. At first my wife said she would leave work and go and live with her mother. I was happy with this as I would keep my children. That was all that mattered to me I had missed them so much when we had briefly split last time in 1981.
We had, in April, bought a house again. 95% of the mortgage was in my name and my wife covered things with a top-up loan for the other 5% based on her salary. This was the last house I would, and probably will, ever own. It was a 3-storey town house with a small back garden. I began planning how I would cope with a full time job and looking after my two children.
Luckily for me, shortly after we moved in, my mother bought a brand new bungalow on a development at the end of the cul-de-sac. This meant that she would be there for the children in the couple of hours between school ending and my return from work. These discussion all took place in September time and, I suppose, went on for a month or so. The children were made aware of them. 
My mother meanwhile set about craeted yet another garden from nothing at the age of 71.
Then my wife changed her mind; she wasn't going anywhere. I then made the only decision possible. I said I would leave but she agreed to give up working as a tutor at my place of work. We told the kids that we would separate after Christmas 1987. Whether it is a good thing for children to know in advance I don't know. If they don't, the surprise can be traumatic. If they do, they may harbour hopes it won't happen.
It did and, after one last Christmas as a family, I moved out and for the next six weeks lived down the road with my mother but more of that next year. Despite what anyone may say, I never had any intention of moving in with anyone else. I would have been delighted to be left on my own with my children and there was no way either they ro mother would have accepted someone moving in. I often wonder what would have happened had we taken that first scenario. My Life would certainly have been very different.
During the year I was also commissioned to write another book, this one called “Learning to Learn” and to be completed by April of 1988. You can find out next time if I achieved it.
As an aside, I also ran a couple of courses at work with inupt from the local police and intended to help retail workers uncover and deal with shoplifters. The courses were covered by our local paper who ran a story about them headlined by the title “Shoplifting, teaching the tricks of the trade” with my photo next to it. I must point out I only learnt the tricks of the trade from research work with the local police.
We had, in April, bought a house again. 95% of the mortgage was in my name and my wife covered things with a top-up loan for the other 5% based on her salary. This was the last house I would, and probably will, ever own. It was a 3-storey town house with a small back garden. I began planning how I would cope with a full time job and looking after my two children.
Luckily for me, shortly after we moved in, my mother bought a brand new bungalow on a development at the end of the cul-de-sac. This meant that she would be there for the children in the couple of hours between school ending and my return from work. These discussion all took place in September time and, I suppose, went on for a month or so. The children were made aware of them. My mother meanwhile set about craeted yet another garden from nothing at the age of 71.
Then my wife changed her mind; she wasn't going anywhere. I then made the only decision possible. I said I would leave but she agreed to give up working as a tutor at my place of work. We told the kids that we would separate after Christmas 1987. Whether it is a good thing for children to know in advance I don't know. If they don't, the surprise can be traumatic. If they do, they may harbour hopes it won't happen.
It did and, after one last Christmas as a family, I moved out and for the next six weeks lived down the road with my mother but more of that next year. Despite what anyone may say, I never had any intention of moving in with anyone else. I would have been delighted to be left on my own with my children and there was no way either they ro mother would have accepted someone moving in. I often wonder what would have happened had we taken that first scenario. My Life would certainly have been very different.
During the year I was also commissioned to write another book, this one called “Learning to Learn” and to be completed by April of 1988. You can find out next time if I achieved it.
As an aside, I also ran a couple of courses at work with inupt from the local police and intended to help retail workers uncover and deal with shoplifters. The courses were covered by our local paper who ran a story about them headlined by the title “Shoplifting, teaching the tricks of the trade” with my photo next to it. I must point out I only learnt the tricks of the trade from research work with the local police.
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