Version 1

I don’t remember much before I was 5 or 6 years of age. That would be 1952 and 1953. Much of it is mixed up with where we lived which comes later after tales of my mum and dad.

We had an allotment up under the wall next to St John’s Road. There was a greenhouse and a hen run and ground to grow stuff in. It was a long way from our house to the allotment, across waste ground and over the railway that ran into Newtown sidings, delivering coal for the Beaumont Street Flyer. Dad had a special pass from the railway company to cross the line. The waste ground had a huge tree in the middle of it. 

Older brother Steve was five years older than me, so he would have been 10 or 11 years old. He was about to go to Huddersfield College. I think he had a balsa wood and tissue aeroplane. He built it himself by pinning the wood struts onto a plan and then glueing on the tissue. The engine was a rubber band. He flew it on the waste land. I’m not sure it ever actually flew. I stuck the plans onto the walls one day. I was wallpapering.

Older brother liked to read books. For some reason it annoyed or upset me. Maybe he wouldn’t play with me, I don’t remember. I think I hid his book one day and he got mad. It was in our bedroom and I threw it down the stairs. He became even angrier and chased me. I hid under my bed and he started bouncing on top. The metal mattress came very close to my face and I was frightened. I tried prop the mattress with my arm and suddenly it became very painful. I’d broken my arm and I had to have a pot. It didn’t mend right and I kept visiting the hospital. I was put to sleep by a horrid mask that fitted over my mouth and nose. It was okay in the end.

In 1953 the Queen was crowned in London. I don’t know why but we had the only TV on the street. Everyone had the day off. We had a party for the children that lived round and about in our kitchen. Their mums and dads kept calling in to make sure all was well and catch up on the new Queen. The TV was black and white and the size of a box that you could get a full-size football in.

There were no cars on the street. Once or twice a week, a man used to lead a big white horse up the street. He gave me rides but the horse was really boney to sit on. I liked doing it but it hurt my bum. I think the horse lived at the railway station in the town centre.

I used to get earache a lot. Granny Addy used to warm a sock on the fire and cuddle it into my ear on her knee. Grannies are great. We mostly lived in the kitchen which had a roaring fire that also heated up the oven for cooking. I had to go to Br Ballon’s on Bradford Road and he would send the nurse to give me injections. They hurt. I had to have my tonsils out at The Royal Infirmary. When I came home I could only eat ice-cream and jelly. Mum and dad looked after me in the front room which we hardly ever went in. Dad let me watch cricket on TV. He told me we watched Denis Compton score the winning runs against Australia.

I went to Birkby Junior School for a short while, even after we’d moved house in 1953 when I was 6 years old. I soon changed to Dalton Primary School because we’d gone 6 miles away to a place called Waterloo. The only thing I remember about Birkby Juniors was when the boys needed a poo we had to go to the girls’ toilets and they would stand around and giggle and keep pushing the door open.

Granny Addy lived down Whitestone Lane, two minutes from Willow Lane. All the family went every Christmas. There were four children, five and more years older than me. I’m told I trailed along behind. 

Some of these stories are not very nice, but I don’t remember being sad. I didn’t hold a grudge about my arm. I wonder today, 65 years later, whether I just assumed it was all my fault. It may seem almost inevitable that as a small person we are to blame. We need parents who love us for what we are and your mum and dad do just that.

Version 2

So for what it is worth, my earliest memories. I don’t remember much before I was 5 or 6 years of age. That would be 1952 and 1953. Much of it is mixed up with the houses and streets where we lived which comes later after tales of my mum and dad.

  Hillhouse was a solid working class area just north of Huddersfield town centre. We had an allotment up under the wall next to St John’s Road. There was a greenhouse and a hen run and ground to grow stuff in. It was a long way from our house, 5, Willow Lane, across waste ground and over the railway that ran into Newtown sidings, delivering coal for the Beaumont Street Flyer. Dad had a special pass from the railway company to cross the line. The waste ground had a huge elderflower tree in the middle of it. In flower, it stunk of cats. Dad would take me to the allotment, but I don’t recall being of much use.

  Older brother Steve was five years older than me, so he would have been 10 or 11 years old. He was about to go to Huddersfield College. I think he had a balsa wood and tissue aeroplane. He built it himself by pinning the wood struts onto a plan and then glueing on to tissue. The engine was a rubber band. He flew it on the waste land. I’m not sure it ever actually flew. I stuck the plans onto the landing walls one day. Dad was livid, but mum talked him round. I was only wallpapering.

  Older brother liked to read books. For some reason it annoyed or upset me. Maybe he wouldn’t play with me, I don’t remember. I think I hid his book one day and he got mad. It was in our bedroom and I threw it down the stairs. He became even angrier and chased me. I hid under my bed and he started bouncing on top. The metal mattress came very close to my face and I was frightened. I tried prop the mattress with my arm and suddenly it became very painful. I’d broken my arm and I had to have a pot. It didn’t mend right and I kept visiting the hospital. I was put to sleep by a horrid mask that fitted over my mouth and nose. The arm mended in the end.

  In 1953 the Queen was crowned in London. I don’t know why but we had the only TV on the street. Everyone had the day off. We had a party in our kitchen for the children that lived round and about. Their mums and dads kept calling in to make sure all was well and catch up on the new Queen. The TV was black and white and the size of a box that you could get a full-size football in.

  There were no cars. Once or twice a week, a man used to lead a big white horse up the street. He gave me rides but the horse was really boney to sit on. I liked doing it but it hurt my bum. I think the horse lived at the railway station in the town centre.

  I used to get earache a lot. Granny Addy used to warm a sock on the kitchen fire and cuddle it into my ear on her knee. Grannies are great. We lived in that kitchen. The roaring fire also heated up the oven for cooking and water for washing. I had to go to Br Ballon’s on Bradford Road about my ear and he would send the nurse to give me injections. They hurt. It ended with having my tonsils out at old The Royal Infirmary near the town centre. When I came home I could only eat ice-cream and jelly. Mum and dad looked after me in the front room which we never went in. Dad let me watch cricket on TV. He said we watched Denis Compton score the winning runs against Australia. Mum said he was a playboy. When he ran his hair flopped over his forehead. Not quite the Brylcreem advert on all the hoardings.

  I went to Birkby Junior School for a short while, even after we’d moved house in 1953 when I was 6 years old. I soon changed to Dalton Primary School because we’d gone 6 miles away to a place called Waterloo. The only thing I remember about Birkby Juniors was when the boys needed a poo we had to go to the girls’ toilets and they would stand around and giggle and keep pushing the door open.

  Some of these stories are not very nice, but I don’t remember being sad. I didn’t hold a grudge about my arm. I wonder today, 65 years later, whether I just assumed it was all my fault. It seems inevitable that as small persons we are to blame. We need parents who love and reassure us that we are okay. The next chapter contains some glimpses of my memories after the age of 6.