[OLD STEVE] [WORLD OF THE CONTENT] [THE RE-WRITTEN LIST] [LEVELS OF CONSCIOUSNESS] [THE THREE LEVELS]
CHAPTER 9.
Still at School.
MY BIOGRAPHY.
1. But we are neglecting school a bit aren't we? To this day I can still knit; yes I can and why not? That was one of the most important things that I was taught in Junior School. The only thing the teacher of that particular class knew. At first it was to knit blanket squares from all sorts of scrounged wool. Then the cleaver ones, of which I was proudly one, went on to learn and to knit balaclava helmets, for soldiers to ware under their 'tin hats'. God knows what they thought of the multicoloured ones and those early attempts where there were extra, unintended, holes in them. From there I, along with a few others, mainly girls, progressed onto fingerless mittens and gloves and finally as one of the teachers chosen few, I learnt how to knit 'Fairisle and to Purl and Cable.' Very popular were the multicoloured and patterned jumpers and pullovers in those days, though goodness knows where they all went? Someone, somewhere would no doubt have done well out of them. The headmaster and his cronies and the local wool and rag merchants, no doubt. But I wonder from that experience, shared with many other boys, how many women out there have, all these years, been married to secret knitters and not known it?
2. It was during my latter days in Junior School that I came into close contact with the refugees that my mother hated so much and I never dare tell her that I actually sat next to one or I might have been taken out of school. Neither did I ever tell anyone, until now, that the cockney kid, as he was, got a severe beating, six of the best on each hand, in front of us all, from the headmaster, having been sent to him, each time an aircraft flew over and he wet himself, and the times I sat with him in the school playground while he cried for the family he had lost in the bombing. Of all the kids at that school and in that class, his is one of the few names I remember and if it were not for the fact that I hope he is still alive today, I would name him, and then you want me to like school teachers. I wonder what he thinks of them?
3. I also had a secret pal at school, he had to be secret because he lived in a 'council house' and I used to listen and say nothing when people used to talk about his family and the fact that his father was a Communist. I don't think my mother knew what a communist was but she certainly knew all about people who lived in council houses and that, in itself, would have been enough to kill that friendship off.
4. Throughout this period and indeed before it, and long after it, I, along with my sister, were made to sit for very long periods of time, at home, doing absolutely nothing while my father listened to the radio or slept in a chair. In those days the only time he seemed to move out of 'his' chair, was when he would take himself off into the toilet, smoke his pipe and read for hours on end. He always smoked a pipe and at one time could brag about smoking something approaching two ounces of rough, strong, dark tobacco every day. Anyone needing to follow him into the bathroom, having firstly suffered from waiting for him to come out, for no one dare ask him to come out, would have to do battle with dense smoke hanging half way down the room that made you cough and stung your eyes. We didn't realise it but it must have stunk terrible. The good thing about it was, that when he was in there, we were allowed to talk and move about reasonably freely but we couldn't grumble really because in the summer, when it was warm, we could go in to the lounge and play and that was great because the room was empty, with the exception of a settee, and that meant plenty of space and it was unimportant that it had to be cleared up and left tidy every night.
5. One of the few things my father ever did for me, that has proved to be of any value, was to teach me manners and even then with the threat of a 'back hander' when I either forgot or got it wrong. He only ever hit me twice and that was for other things. But then it was all about raising your cap to ladies, standing back to let others pass, walking on the outside of the pavement, opening doors for other people and everything else that today is often sadly lacking. I still practice and get a great deal of pleasure out of the reactions I get from others and still remember my father saying, 'Manners cost you absolutely nothing, are easy to remember and practice, and give a great deal of pleasure to others.' I still stand when the 'Queen' is played in public and get very annoyed when others don't, but I have long ago abandon the practice of standing in the privacy of my own home, as we were made to do as kids.
6. Street Parties were a fairly common feature around this time, but not in our area, we were too posh, but in the Council House area and God help me if ever they had found out how many times I went to those, and how welcome I was always made to feel, by these so called lesser people.
7. A Knife Grinder. An old bloke and gypsy type character, or so he seemed to me and probably was, came round regularly with a grind stone attached to his bicycle and used it to sharpen knives and gardening equipment and we, the other kids and myself, would follow him round and run and knock on doors and ask people if they had things for him to sharpen; all great fun. Until one day and while talking to a lady, I heard him say that for the first time it was free, after he had sharpened her garden shears. I ran all the way home and grabbed ours and proudly presented them. He sharpened them and then demanded one and three (one shilling and three pence. Approx. 6 1/2p.) See how you remember relevant detail, and I said, fighting back the tears and the fear of what I was going to do, that I thought they were free and he said only when they were new and ours were not? I burst into tears and stood and watched my mother bust my moneybox open, by throwing it angrily on the floor, and making me pay for them with my own money. To this day I always read the small print on everything and am very cautious before parting with any money and embarking on special offers. Yet, perfect though I am, I have still made mistakes and some bad ones, but perhaps not quite as many as I might have done had it not been for that knife sharpener.
8. For as far back as I can remember and certainly up until Secondary School was I made to share everything with my sister and to take her everywhere with me and on top of that I was supposed to look after her. Sorry sis for all the times I ran away from you and made you do things you were hardly big enough or strong enough to do but I really did want to go with my mates and dragging you round severely hindered that and although I was kind of used to it, they didn't like it and often would not play with me because of you. Sorry also that that closeness didn't go on into later life. I still love you.
