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My
Early Life
My early childhood was probably different from most.
My
father, after he came back from World War 1, started
his own very profitable business. However, he joined
the British Communist Party and was soon very prominent
on the committee. I’ll always remember those characters
from the ‘party’ coming to my home in 1930s. Amongst
them, the leader of the British Communist Party, Harry Pollitt. Of course, I was only very small then.
Naturally, I was brought up hearing all the debates of
the time, and bookshelves were filled with books on
Marks, Engels and Lenin. Even without wanting to know,
I soon acquired a great knowledge of this movement. I
never let the opportunity pass and picked up books and
devoured them. In those days, I loved the book by the
American author, Edgar Snow, who travelled with and
described the Chinese Communist Party’s ‘Long March’ in
the 1930s.
Strange to relate, I never absorbed, nor was I
brain-washed by all this propaganda. I tended to
disbelieve and think this system would never work.
Human beings are too untrustworthy. My two brothers
thought the same way. There was six years between each
of us, I being born in the middle. Later on, my elder
brother went to Rhodesia and my younger brother went to
Canada. Fate deemed that I was never to see either of
them again. People find this strange. However, I never
saw my parents again either. In fact my future wife and
children never met my parents! My family helped each
other, but never sought or wanted intimate contact.
My father believed in the Communist movement all his
life. He never wavered and died a believer in 1978.
Unfortunately, my father left most of his money to the
movement, rather than his family. Such is fervour!
There was no religious upbringing of any kind in my
home, no attending church and so forth. However, over
the years, I learned a lot about religious faiths,
including the Muslim beliefs and Hinduism. From all my
reading, I favoured the Hindu way, since they seem
to me to be the only religion not to actively seek out
and brainwash converts. In other words, you think for
yourself!
One thing I liked about my childhood home, was that
when my father was home, at the dinner table in the
evening, there would be fantastic political debates,
in which my brothers and I were encouraged to take part and
have our say. During all this period, my father spent
much time writing letters to the major newspapers in
Birmingham, so he was well known. This was apart from
his public speaking at the town hall, a trait which I
have followed. I feel perfectly at home giving a
speech to a large audience. In my case, travel talks and
not political dialogue. I will always remember how my
father displayed a very large hammer and sickle flag at
the front of our house, which was in a respectable
and affluent area. This was not pleasing to the neighbours and was a cause of endless disputes,
especially since World War 2 had commenced.
My mother didn't follow the Communist movement either.
Both of my parents were domineering, stubborn, with each
having considerable willpower. I remember constant
arguments in their bedroom when my father was home.
This tended to put me off any relationships and, in
particular, marriage. In fact I was twenty-nine before
I married.
My mother was unusual for her time as she worked every
day and managed two shops in which she sold rugs and
carpets. Consequently, I was competent and capable at a
very early age, and let myself into my home after school
each day.
In direct opposition to his political views, my father
started his own successful business at age twenty. This
consisted of travelling all round Europe, selling rugs
and carpets. To my mind, he had a wonderful life and
was never out of work, not even during the Great
Depression. Every other Friday, he played golf. When I
was about eight years of age, I went away with him
during the school holidays. I loved the travelling and
the nomadic lifestyle. I will always remember staying
in lovely hotels with magical dining rooms and being
attended by waiters. At night, I was sent to bed and
was looked after by a maid who read me exciting stories. In
the meantime, my father went out on the town with other travelling salesmen to musicals and so forth. In those
days, all my friends’ parents had cars and I never knew
any different. My own father purchased a brand new car
every year as he covered so many miles and the old car
was totally worn out. I never felt homesick and loved
sleeping in a new and different bed every night.
Today, I fall asleep in a few minutes in any strange
bed. I guess this was the start of my wanderlust! I
never look back or miss places and people from the
past. I always march into the future, believing that over the
next hill or round the next corner, it is more exciting or better than
where I am now. Of course, sometimes I slip right down
to the bottom of the hill. How boring life would be if
one was always successful! I can honestly say I am a
true Capricorn.
My first employment was with an estate agent. Here, I
learned all about office work. I had to go out as a
rent-collector two days a week. This entailed
visiting the poorest areas of the city, knocking on
doors, collecting money and writing the amount down in
a rent book. The rents averaged 5 shillings per week. I
put the money in my pocket so, at the end of the day I
had an average of 100 pounds on me. I met all types, of
course. There were very good and reliable tenants.
Among some of the others were women who operated as
prostitutes, who tried offering their services to me in
lieu of rent. When I refused, they used to scream at
me, “What kind of man are you?” Sometimes, I heard
children yell out, “Mum, the rent man is coming.” There
was scuffling and I knew they were hiding. Curtains
were peeled back to observe me standing below. I
learned to take all of this in my stride. It was a good
introduction to life in the raw!
On occasion, I arrived at a house and the bailiff and
sheriff were already there. The tenants had not paid
their rent for months. An axe was used to smash the
door down, then all the possessions were piled onto the
footpath and the tenants thrown out. This type of
tenant usually obtained alternative accommodation
within a few weeks, despite having no references. In
one such house, where the gas and electricity supplies
had already been disconnected, bread and milk vendors
had stopped services, it was later discovered that the
evicted tenants had broken through the upstairs walls,
and had connected the gas and electricity from next
door and used their services, all of course obtained
free, at the expense of the other tenant!
Most of my clients worked in the munitions factories at
that time and earned huge wages, the major part of
which was spent on alcohol. Very often, scared tenants
told me of drunken brawls and fights on Saturday
night. I'll never forgot those!
Later, I was conscripted into the Army for two years’
military service. Prior to this, when I was aware that
I would have to serve in the forces, I volunteered for
service in the Palestine Police. This was an option
instead of the armed forces. I passed the exams and
extremely tough medical exam held by Harley Street
doctors in London. At the time, I was eager to serve in
Palestine, which was then a British colony. Low and
behold, on Boxing Day I was notified I was no longer
needed. The reason being that Britain was withdrawing
and handing Palestine over to the Jews. The United
Nations had decided on this course of action.
After completing my military training in the infantry,
I was recruited by the officer's mess and spent the
duration of my time, serving as a food and wine waiter.
The officers were all from an upper class
background and lived in grand style! Here, I learned
about wines, which wine to drink with certain types of
food. I laid highly-polished tables with silver
cutlery, knives and forks for each separate course, and
set out rows of exquisite glasses, and learned to carry
six plates of food at one time. Very often, gourmet
food was prepared by a marvellous chef, such as
pheasant and partridge, complete with all the
trimmings. The thing I liked most at the time was the
fact that I could sleep in late in the mornings as I
went to bed very late.
Sometimes, the scenes were hilarious. I remember one
such event in which all the officers dressed in red
ceremonial uniforms. They were mounted on horses as
they were going on a fox hunt. My task consisted of
taking round trays of port to the mounted officers.
This was very early in the morning. Of course, because
this was a hunt, there were dozens of large hounds
running all over the area. I lost numerous trays of
port as dogs leaped up and knocked them out of my
hands. For the dogs this was great sport.
On other occasions, there were fancy dress balls in
which the officers invited all their high society lady
friends. Some of these were most elegant as they were
attired in gorgeous and very expensive gowns and
jewellery. During one such ball, the commander of the
regiment and other senior officers held a race
underneath the carpet. My what a sight! Everyone roared
with laughter and cheered and egged the contestants on
to the finish. When they emerged from the carpet they
were all covered in years of dust and filth.
The officers were very good to me and were most polite.
One came from a family that owned a major gin company
in the UK.
Of course, I was able to eat the best of food, and
drink the most expensive wines, despite rationing operating
in the UK at that time. The catering officer visited
local farmers and purchased sheep on the black market.
There was no rationing in the officers’ mess. I soon
learned to hand out a slightly shorter measure of
whisky or whatever was being ordered or served. Very
soon, I accumulated bottles of various drinks.
Naturally, when I went on leave every few months, I
took home bottles of champagne and other fine wines. My
father was most pleased with these presents. I always
remember being given lifts by the officers from the
barracks to my home town. Then I was seated in
extremely expensive sports cars, such as a Lagonda. The
type of car that had leather belts around the engine,
and looked like a racing car. This was great fun, as the
vehicles were open-topped and the officers usually
drove at racing car speeds. Feeling the wind rushing
against my face was most exhilarating. Nobody took much
notice of speeding in those days.
Towards the end of my period of service I joined an
adventure club and, when not on duty, went on
weekend caving expeditions, venturing deep underground
with miners’ style lamps, paying out balls of colored
string to find my way back in the darkness. Sometimes,
I had to squeeze myself flat in order to pass through
tiny crevices in order to reach another cave. The
members were very lively and this group was started by
a member from the wartime group of Trotsky's Private
Army. Definitely my kind of people!
On other occasions, I went with other members to sit in
reputedly haunted houses, passing the night away with
proposals of future expeditions. To me, at the time,
this was all jolly good fun.
- Nomad
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