Chapter 1 : Richard Colin Fifield AKA Colin

Dad’s Journal.

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As I think back to my infant days, I remember the deep blue colour of the front window curtains that hung in our council house in Twining Avenue, Twickenham, and ever since that time blue has been a favourite colour for me. Especially the blues we get in the flowers and bushes that grow in this fair land, New Zealand. Red is probably next in line, for that was the colour of the pedal car I remember having. The journey to the sweetshop on my own at the age of what, not too sure, probably not more than three or four years, even at this age wanting to find what was on the other side of the hill. (Continuing that same quest for the rest of my life.) The frustration of being locked behind doors in the next doors neighbours house in the first few minutes for my mother to get away to work in the few hours she was able to, and the reward I always expected went she came home, searching through the shopping bag for the sweets that she always managed to get for me. (The spoilt brat) Sisters Joan and Ada were grown-ups to me, and I always felt to be the only child, longing in later years as a child to have brothers and sisters nearer to my age group. Those very early years are not very clear, just the flashes of memory.

 I remember going to see Aunt Elsie and uncle? Sitting in their back garden catching fleas hunting through the fur of the Labrador dog they owned.

I clearly remember the first day I went to school at five years playing in the school yard among some old school desks; I managed to squash my fingers in one. That hurt screaming my head off, didn’t think much of school anyway. The playground had flowers all around the edge; the flowers interested me, all the different shapes and colours.

By the time I started school the family had moved to a big house in Twickenham. This was situated close to the main highway. Electric buses passed by our front door, we were also close to the railway which was overhead and we possessed a railway archway. So we had a large ready-made shed with one end partitioned off. My sister Joan made the most use of it, rigging up a stage to act and dance; she always got the local kids to see the show. I had got to know a boy a few doors along from me, Billy Knight, we were mates.

The family moved once again. We were not long there, maybe a couple of years; I had started the new school. Archdeacon Cambridge juniors, close to Twick Green. Quite a large area of grass, cricket was played in the summer and probably still is. The new address was 39 Lion Road. Just remembered something; Just before starting school, I was a page boy at sister Ada’s wedding, to Percy Clement, all decked out in black velvet, knickerbockers and frilly white shirt was I. The thing that bought that back to me was that Ada and Percy were also living in Lion Road number 17. I remember more about my father. From that address he was in the building trade, times were hard, work wasn’t too regular. I know Mum used to send Sister Jane to uncles, he didn’t have another name, just uncle. I would sometimes go with Joan as it would mean a ride on the bus. Uncle had a shop with all kind of interesting things I always liked to go see.

One early evening my mate Billy Knight invited me out; he had been given 5 shillings. It was a fortune back then; well we bought peaches, meat pies, grapes biscuits and other treats. Ate a lot, and lots more of the weirdest selection of shopping was left over to take home. When I plonked the lot on the table at home, the look I got from mum and dad. The next thing I knew I was getting a hiding from dad’s belt teaching me not to go down town stealing. My cry of Billy’s 5 shillings birthday present went on deaf ears. Mum went to see Billy’s mum the next day and found out I wasn’t a liar. I don’t remember dad saying sorry, I can’t remember feeling too bad about it either.

About this time dad would come home sometimes wearing an army uniform with sergeant stripes on the sleeve, he had joined the territorial’s. I remember asking what dad was doing in uniform, I was told he was training soldiers on the green. One Sunday morning we heard on the radio that we were at war with Germany, and then dad was gone from home.

There was quite a gang of kids in Lion Avenue, boys and girls. We would go everywhere we could in and around Twick. We knew the place very well. Some of our favourite parties were going to Marsh farm, the canal was also the dump. Tall cypress trees to climb, we also found clay in a certain place. We would cut sticks and mould a small piece of clay to the end then whip the stick back then forward and the clay would fly off. With an endless supply of ammunition to cars going by on the main road sometimes came in for bombardment ...

I would go tiddler fishing in the canal, knee deep in rubbish, at the same time searching for anything of value, bicycle parts, sets of wheels, from anything at all to make a status symbol, a Go-Kart. Go-kart owners were always collecting sweets, mementos, buttons from the forces uniforms, especially when the Yankee soldiers came over for a ride on the Barrow.

Ch. 2 - Richard Colin Fifield AKA Colin "War Years...
Anna Bateman Her Story
 

Comments 1

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Dick Pellek (website) on Thursday, 21 November 2013 13:03

Yup, your Dad's stories are rich in nuggets of local color and historical references. Reading through them gives me pleasure in trying to imagine the conditions as they were described.

Thank you for posting these glimpses of the past.

Yup, your Dad's stories are rich in nuggets of local color and historical references. Reading through them gives me pleasure in trying to imagine the conditions as they were described. Thank you for posting these glimpses of the past.