Just a boy from Bristol

Chapter 2 1946: A series of brief  encounters   There was always laughter, music and song in our house. The old wireless set had been a constant companion for as long as I could remember. During the dark days of World War 2, the BBC Home Service and the 9 o'clock news had provided my lullabies and Alvar Lidel had been the singer. Now, in our brave new post-war era we still had the Home Service, but now we also had Light Programmes and Third Programmes. During our waking hours the radio was always switched on and the volume cranked up to maximum.

    JUST A BOY FROM BRISTOL PART TWO   Chapter Eight     Somewhere down by the Ropewalk     It was a lazy, grey Friday evening in late September 1951 when the two girls took a wrong turning and came wandering into our young lives. 'Scattered showers', had been the official forecast, but although the clouds were threatening, the rain hadn't arrived. One by one, our little gang gathered on the steps outside of number 2 Marlborough Flats, Eugene Street, Bristol. This was the home of Johnny, Frankie and Alan Millar, who were three of the members of our little gang. Another weekend was upon us, and, we always met here to discuss the events of the past week, and make our plans and arrangements for the next seven days. Bristol Rovers were entertaining Norwich the following day, so Saturday afternoon was already taken care of, because we would be tak...

May 8th 1945 - VE Day.   Chapter 1   EVERYTHING WILL BE BETTER - 1945   “Everything will be better when the war is over.” If I heard my mother say those words once, I must have heard her say them a thousand times. They were the constant, inspirational rallying cry, which helped our little family through some of the darker days of World War 2. I heard her shout them loudly, nervously and repeatedly as we huddled together, shivering with fear, in that tiny cupboard under the stairs whilst the very first German bombs of the Bristol blitz exploded around us. I heard her whisper them quietly in my ear as she tenderly kissed my head, and roughly rubbed the Wintergreen ointment onto my troubled chest. I heard her speak them softly but reassuringly as she knelt at my feet before applying the Zam-Buk to the fiery chilblains on my toes. I heard her murmur them, almost silently, as we giggled uneasily whilst we hid under the dining table to avoid the ...

“She just lives up here,” said Paddy as he led me up Montague Hill, “Number5 Duke Street.”   I didn’t know what to expect, although I was expecting an inquisition. The front door was ajar when we arrived at 5 Duke Street and Paddy marched into the hallway. I stood back and hesitated, waiting behind him. “Come on,” he waved me on, and I detected just a touch of annoyance in his voice. The door to Granny’s front room was also open, and this time, Paddy hesitated. He knocked gently on the door and waited. “Alright Gran?” He enquired, but there was no reply. He shrugged his shoulders, made a face, and then peeped around the door. “It’s only our Mike, Gran. I’ve brought him down to see you.” Still there was no reply and Paddy turned to face me. “She’s praying. If I was you, I’d Just go on in and wait on the sofa.” He placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “You’ll be alright,” he said reassuringly “I’ll see you later,” and then he was gone. I tiptoed into the room. My Grann...

April 11th 1941  It was Good Friday, and Mum went shopping. She came back with some Easter biscuits. We could only afford two, so Mum and Mary had to share one. The biscuit was delicious, and it was my lucky day, because Mum wasn't very hungry, and she gave me most of her half. Father Doyle called in the afternoon. Mum told me to act as if I were still ill. She sat at the top of the bed with me, and told Father Doyle he should keep his distance, as what I had was very infectious. He stood by the door and told us a story about Easter. He told us about the Last Supper and Judas Iscariot. He told us about Pontius Pilate and Barabbas, and then he told us about Jesus Christ. How he was forced to wear a crown of thorns, and how he carried the heavy cross up the hill of Mount Calvary. He told us how Jesus was crucified and died. It was a cracking story and I was right into it. I was waiting anxiously for the happy ending, and I was quite disappointed whe...

 Chapter Eleven Trouble doesn't travel uphill I was five now and feeling quite grown up. Mum explained to me that I had missed a birthday whilst in the Sanatorium, and she made me a  bread pudding as a special treat. I was quite enjoying my new role as 'man of the house'. I mentioned to Mum about the porridge, egg, bacon, sausage and fried bread breakfasts that Nurse Pamela used to give me in the Sanatorium, and Mum patiently explained rationing to me. She told me we were only allowed one egg per person per week, and two rashers of bacon per person per fortnight. "We just have to take the rough with the smooth, and be grateful for small mercies." Mum had a saying for everything, and it always made sense. We were living in number eleven Halsbury Road, and our house was the second one in . We looked directly down the hill. Mum said that the other side of the road was the 'posh side'. This was because they had paint on their doo...

JUST A BOY FROM BRISTOL Chapter One Through the eyes of a child   On the 3rd September 1939 a war started that would change the course of history. It also denied millions of children across the world the opportunity for a normal, happy childhood. I know, because I was one of them. My father had re-enlisted in the Royal Navy as soon as the storm clouds of war had started to gather over Europe. He left my mother to bring up two young children alone, in poverty, and in what was a scary, changing world.  My mother was an incredibly beautiful young woman, but she was emotionally fragile. She was a wild, scatty, free spirited, capricious butterfly, who was constantly fluttering around, unable to settle. In many ways she was totally unsuited to the task in hand, but she was a mother, and she did what mothers do best. She cared for me; she did it well, and I will be eternally grateful to her. Mum, I thank you for teaching me how to...