A Child of the 1950's

Chapter Thirteen - My Dad

My dad was born on the 24th October 1920. His name was Kenneth Stanley. He had dark hair: and blue eyes, like his parents. None of the rest of the family have had blue eyes not me or my sister, our children or grandchildren. Dad was tall for his generation and his grown up height was 5' 11" and he was always very slim. He was good looking as a young man. His hair started to recede in his twenties and he lost his hair in his thirties.

His father was Stanley and his mother Florence May (A). He had a brother called Raymond who was two years' younger. Dad's father was a Methodist lay preacher and his mother a street preacher. She tragically died when my dad was six and his brother, Raymond was four. I feel so sorry I never met her.

A couple of years later another Florence May (B) became dad and Raymond's mother.  She was a fantastic stepmother to dad and his brother, a very genteel, gentle woman who was very good with children. A very good friend, in fact, of their real mother. Dad loved her, but his brother Raymond missed his mother a great deal and resented his stepmother. I think there was always something between them, all from his side. My uncle Ray was a very rude, sarcastic man and I never liked him. He never pronounced my name correctly (probably on purpose). He called me 'Patreesha' instead of 'Patricia.' I hated it. He also called me 'Bossy Boots.' Yes, I probably was a bit bossy, (that's little girls for you), but it is so unfair to call children names. I was only five or six at the time. He had three boys and boys are so different from little girls. His three boys were wild and uncontrollable at times. Whereas, me and my sister were quiet and mostly well behaved.

Dad's father (my Grandad) was born in the era of Queen Victoria in 1890 and his outlook was extremely Victorian. In the house in Easton where they lived when dad was a small boy, there was a fireplace decorated with a fancy fabric cover which covered the mantlepiece and hung down either side. It was a popular item earlier on in Queen Victoria's reign. Dad got into trouble as he set it on fire, by using a spill which he put into the fire and then it caught the fabric.  I assume it was an accident and not meant to happen! Spills are thick paper sticks used to light pipes and cigarettes. Grandad was a pipe smoker and always had a pot of spills on the mantlepiece, I remember them clearly. Thankfully, the fire was found before any lasting damage was done. I wonder who thought up that fad, of fabric decoration around a fireplace? What a ridiculous idea!

My dad and mum were together from the age of 15. They went to the same school, Bannerman Road Primary, which I also attended.

Dad was a cheeky young man and was always messing around. He accidentally broke a window at the chapel in his teens and mum was horrified! He took nothing seriously at all.

When WW11 broke out he joined the RAF and he was in communications. He used and repaired radios. He was made up to Corporal, at one point, but that was short lived. He messed about with a gun in the back of a lorry and he shot a radio. Thank goodness he didn't hurt anyone, it was so irresponsible. I expect dad only laughed about it though.

Dad was sent to India for the duration of the war, but he didn't like India at all, not the food or the heat or anything else. He was relieved when he got home after the war. He caught jaundice which didn't help and when he got home everyone thought he'd been in a prison of war camp as he was stick thin and looked so ill.

He then married my mother as soon as he could. His wedding suit was his smart RAF uniform and mum borrowed a wedding dress. It is such a shame their wedding photos were in black and white and not colour. I think they had three bridesmaids each in a different coloured dresses. They look so happy on their photographs.

At first they rented a house in the cul-da-sac in Easton. It was there that my sister was born in the late 1940's.  They had a lot of worry with her as she was ill as a child and it took some time for the doctors to find out what was wrong. She was roughly two years old at the time. I remember mum saying she had to see a specialist called Dr (A) who was very rude and arrogant (doctors can be like that some times). Instead of being comforting and helpful, she was very dismissive. She was no help to my mother at all. She was one of the rare people mum did not like. Eventually, my sister was found to be suffering from thyroid problems and she had to spend some time in hospital. My sister made no fuss at all and didn't even look around when they took her away from mum. At visiting time my parents could only look at her through a window and were not allowed in to talk with her or cuddle her.  Hospitals were very harsh places in those days. After a while my sister recovered. She has to take medication for life to treat the condition. When she was five, I was born. She was in better health by then.

A houses opposite in the cul-de-sac came up for sale and they made the mistake (mum often said later in life) of buying it. My Uncle Raymond and Aunt Alice came and bought their rented house and they lived there with our cousins Martin, Michael and John. They always were very boisterous and there seemed to be little discipline. Uncle Ray and Aunt Alice went to church and took the boys with them. Martin was the eldest, Michael was the middle child and then John came along. John was born a 'blue' baby and had to have a transfusion when he was born. He had learning difficulties as he grew up, but he was a nice person. I liked Michael too and felt closest to him, but Martin was not my cup of tea. I really loved Aunt Alice, she was a very kind, sweet person. However, she was not good at coping in the home and may have had slight learning difficulties herself. She died in her early fifties with cancer. It was very sad. John was only in his early teens at the time. It was very hard on John and Uncle Ray.

I can remember dad wearing a trilby hat when I was small. He was always neatly turned out and very clean. He always looked lovely in a blue shirt, as it brought out the colour of his blue eyes. I bought him several blue shirts over the years. He used to wear Old Spice after shave.

Dad loved his car and we were always going out for rides, mostly on Saturday afternoons. It was a lovely part of growing up, going to trips to the common or into the countryside as a family, together. We went somewhere different each Saturday. There was so little traffic on the road at the time, it was a pleasure to go out for a drive. We had a black car with a running board, that's the first car I can remember. Then we had two Morris Minors. One grey and with red leather seats and the other one blue with blue leather seats. They were my favourite cars. The blue one was beautiful!

When I was older dad taught me to drive, but I had lots of lessons and only passed my test the fifth time, not because I couldn't drive, but only failed on one or two silly things. I had in fact driven miles and miles even with my family in the car coming back from holidays, before I passed. I'm glad I persisted as I'm not sure how I would manage without being able to drive. I have, so far, never had a prang and I hope that continues.

Dad worked at Broughton & Company in Clifton, Bristol for many years as a technician repairing calculators and other items. He used to travel around going to companies to repair their machines. It was Broughton and Company who sent him on courses to Paris, France and to East Germany to learn how to repair more modern machines.

Later on, in his fifties, dad had a job working in a College in the Audio/Visual department. He loved it there and used to work with slides and films and all sorts of aids for the teachers to use to teach the students. He also had to do repairs.

My husband has just remarked that he never knew anyone as energetic as my dad.  Dad could not sit still, he was a terrible fidget. He was off somewhere every afternoon, if just to the church to practise his beloved organ music. When he retired he got himself a part time job for the Auto Trader magazine, driving around Bristol taking photographs of cars which were up for sale, for their photo to be put into the magazine. He loved that too.

Dad's had lots of sayings. One was 'Money for old rope.' If you had a problem, he would say 'It'll all come out in the wash.' Ha, ha! And his favourite saying of all 'It's all part of life's rich pattern.' He never used bad language, but he'd say 'Oh, damn and blast,' when the need arose. I think Grandad used to say that too.

Always, on our mantlepiece was a pile of dad's coins. He hated having lots of change in his suit pocket. No one ever touched them, but one day my cousin Michael came in to collect me as we were walking to school together and he picked up the pile and messed about with it. I thought at the time what a cheek that was. You should never touch something which doesn't belong to you, was my thinking. I was about ten, I suppose. Michael was the one who told me there was no Father Christmas. I was angry at my parents for lying to me for so long! It is unkind to tell children there is no Father Christmas as we all know that is not true! He is a magic man, who lives in Lapland with the Reindeer, of course he is.

I can't remember ever playing with Michael in the street. I suppose they had other things to occupy their time, but when I was ten we were allowed to walk to school together.

Dad was a happy man, always fond of comedy and he smiled and laughed freely.  His favourite show on television was 'Only Fools and Horses,' which was a very funny comedy which is still popular today.

He always had several books, borrowed from the library, which he read avidly. He often laughed out loud when reading a book and I often do the same.

He was hard working and upright and was a church organist. His music was part of our life in a way. We had a piano in the front room which he played and my sister and I took piano lessons to learn to play, as well. Later on in life, he bought himself a small organ which had lots of fancy sounds on it. I think it was a Hammond organ, not sure.

As well as playing for church services, weddings and funerals, he played the piano for the Eastonian Girls' Choir, run by Miss Ivy Cleeves. Both my sister and I sang in the choir for a time, but not at the same time. She was an old fashioned lady who wore her hair in a bun. (She was also my piano teacher). I always enjoyed singing, but we longed to sing more modern songs than the ones we had to learn. We sang, 'Bless this house' and 'The Cornish Floral Dance' and lots of other old songs including 'The Happy Wanderer.'   

Dad could turn his hand to most things. He used to mend cars in our garden with his friend, Dulver. This was when I was about five or six years old. Not sure how good he was at that, but I think Dulver was the one with the knowledge.  Whilst doing the repairs, dad would smoke, lighting one cigarette from another. His hands were stained with nicotine. Dad was often up the ladder replacing a tile on the roof (not really advisable I think – that's a job for the professionals), or painting the house, plumbing in a new sink, making a new bathroom (when they moved away from Easton) and making wooden windows. 

He was very clever, but he was not a perfectionist and at some time he was always heard to say, near the end of a project 'Oh, that'll do for now' when it really wouldn't! Ha, ha. He replaced a window in my bedroom at the house in Easton, Uncle Ray helped him and they put the window in back to front so instead of my window opening out it opened in! Mum was not best pleased. It was typical dad! It was too hard for them to take it out and start again, so it had to stay. He was so funny, even when he didn't mean to be. Mum couldn't laugh about it, she found it frustrating at times. She'd moan when he used her best teaspoons for some job or other and spoilt them! They'd be all bent out of shape.

Dad loved people. He was a friendly guy and he would talk to anyone. He would do anything for anybody and was often taking someone to a hospital appointment or somewhere else. He loved driving so that was part of it. I reckon he did a good deed for someone every week, if not every day! He was a special person.

I can remember going to a certain church where he played the organ and sat with him on the wooden organ stool as he played. I think I was about 9 at the time.  It was fascinating to watch and it seemed very hard to do as he played the keyboard, pulling out certain stops which were at the side of the organ and underneath, pressing large wooden slats with his feet! I still find it hard to understand how anyone can do all of that at once! Ha, ha. Anyway, he could and it sounded really good, always. Even when he was 81 he was still playing really well.

When I was young dad and I spent quite a lot of time with my cousin Neil and his dad Uncle Ken. Dad and Uncle Ken bought a small boat with an outboard motor. It was called a 'Tom Boy.' I think I was a bit of a Tom Boy. We kept the boat in our garden as we had a garage door onto the street and a large enough garden.  We used to hitch the boat onto the back of our car and take it down to the river. We had a lot of fun driving it up the river and back again. One time we took it out into Weymouth Bay, but we had overloaded the boat and it hung too far down into the water at the back and we didn't stay out on the water for very long, in case we capsized! We had a lot of fun.

Dad was always taking Evening Classes to learn something new. Just before he died he had passed a music exam. He was always interested in new technology and was hoping to get on the internet at that time too, but it never happened for him. He took a great interest in his children and grandchildren and he loved us with all his heart and soul and he was so encouraging, supportive and affectionate.

I often said to him "Dad, I think you're wonderful!" One time he replied "I'm glad you think so." I had the best childhood with lots of happy memories. Mum and dad were the best parents ever and now they have passed on I miss them so much and I often dream about them.

Dad died at the age of 81 in his sleep. He'd not had to go into hospital for any treatment (which he would have hated!) but had been struggling for a few months.  He died of a heart attack brought on by the diabetes, which he had contracted in his early seventies. I felt like I had been robbed when he died. He didn't seem old enough to die as he was still fairly active, so it was a shock and we were all devastated. But, I always think how clever it was of him to die in his sleep! That is the best way to go. I used to say to myself 'Clever old dad.' Dad and mum were still very much in love when he died. They were a true love story.

He died in March 2002, at Easter time. It felt like a spiritual significance for a Christian and it was six weeks after his first great grandson, Jack was born.

I had a strange experience some weeks after he died. I was sobbing my heart out in the kitchen, crying so hard when I felt his presence and he said 'that's enough.'  I didn't hear a voice, but it was in my mind. I knew it was dad and it was the kind of thing he would have said. I stopped crying and in my mind's eye, he put his arm around me and led me into the lounge and sat me on the sofa. He sat down beside me. It was very comforting for me. I have since learned that people often get these kind of things happen when someone close to them dies. Our minds are strange, are they not?

In fact, it was dad who prompted me to start writing. When he died I wrote a eulogy for the vicar to read out at his funeral, I was far too upset to read it myself. It was the first piece of writing I ever wrote and I enjoyed it so much I had to continue. I was into my early fifties at that time.

Here is the eulogy:

DAD'S EULOGY

What can we say about dad? Dad was a very active man. He had great difficulty sitting still. He was always jingling his keys, tapping his fingers or humming and was a terrible fidget. He was always on the go. He loved helping other people and I expect he did a good turn for someone every day. His life was full and brimming over.

Dad was clumsy, (a bit of a family trait!) he was always tripping over things or bumping his head. He made us laugh so many times. You would hear a commotion in the hall and mum would say, "What are you up to now?" and he would reply "Who left that blooming thing there?" as he had fallen over it or stubbed his toe, even though it wasn't in his way at all.

Although he grew tomatoes and beans dad was no gardener. Once mum said to me "He's pulled up all my flowers!" "What do you mean?" I asked. "He went out weeding and pulled up all the flowers by mistake!" she replied. She was cross, but I thought it very funny.

Dad was a great family man. He was devoted to mum and he loved us all very much. He was always generous, warm and affectionate. He lived to see his first great grandchild, baby Jack, who is now five weeks old and he loved him so and said of him "He'll be after all the girls." No dad was better.

He had a great sense of humour and fun. He particularly loved 'Only Fools and Horses'. He loved Del Boy. Dad was never miserable, he was always laughing.

Dad loved his car, his holidays, books (he read avidly - at least two books a week) his TV and video, his computer and lots of other things. He was trying to get connected on the internet, had just passed a typing exam and was taking music exams. He was an exceptional man, clever and full of knowledge. Music was a large part of his life and of his long and committed service to the Church we are deeply proud.

His attitude to life was "Don't worry, be happy". If anyone had a problem he would try to smooth things over and say "Don't worry, it will all come out in the wash" and "It's all part of life's rich pattern." Dad had great faith in God. So thank you, dad, for everything, you were truly wonderful!

We all have happy, happy memories.