by Jack Lynch
There was the case of the ‘Fly by night couple.’ We rented a room to a couple who were in their thirties. After a few months with us, Molly and I were browsing around one Saturday morning, and became suspicious, because unusually for this couple there was no sound from their room. I went up and knocked on the door to check if all was well. There was no answer. I tried the door, and it opened. Surprise, surprise, and swears. The couple had flown the coup. They had sneaked out while we were watching TV the night before. Everything of theirs was gone, and so were the keys of the bedroom, and more importantly the front door keys were missing. On the following Monday, Molly went to shop just down the road, and lo, and behold, who did she see inside the shop but the fellow who had left with our keys, and rent. She went up to him, and he got the shock of his life as Molly demanded the keys, and rent. He brushed past her, but she saw him get into a van with a well-known brand name on it. When I got home I checked the phone number, and rang the firm, and asked to speak to this man. He was out, so I left my name, and asked them to get him to return the keys, and rent. We got both.
In the single bedroom we had a young girl who nearly started a fire. I smelled smoke one night, and traced it to this room. I banged on the door, and a sleepy eyed girl opened the door. She had been asleep, and left a chair too close to the electric fire. The chair was smouldering away in the room, and she slept through it.
We rented a second single bedroom to a man who worked nights. He usually left early in the evening, and came home before we got up. It took us a long time to find out that this lodger was not only working nights, but that his girl friend used the room during the night. Before going to work he would smuggle her into the room, and she would leave as he arrived back from work. He expected two in residence for the rent of one person. How long, or how this got by us I’ll never know. We learned a lot in this house.
One morning Molly and I were going for a stroll, and we had Ann in the pram. As I opened our front door, three firemen burst through,
“Where’s the fire?” they shouted, and they nearly knocked me over.
Outside, on the road was a fire tender, with more firemen and all were looking into the house.
I thought, “Am I missing something here?”
Ann started to cry, and Molly was asking what fire they were looking for.
One fireman said, “Is this 23?”
I said “No, that’s next door.”
They apologised as they left, to put out a chimney fire at No 23.
Our neighbours were a mixture of nice, and some nosey people. One woman who lived about six doors away saw a new Hoover twin tub washing machine being delivered to us, and next day was down with a pram full of dirty washing, to know if we would let her use the machine. I politely said she could not use the machine, and this upset her. Big deal! There was a launderette down the road, and I told her to go there.
We had very good friends like the Irish couple Meta, and Sean Purcell, who lived on another adjacent street. There were also our next-door neighbours, Miss Godfrey, and her sister, a lovely genteel English family of two elderly unmarried sisters. They were Protestants, but despite this the Catholic Archbishop of Westminster came to visit one of the two sisters, and the press was there. I know she had been very active in some charity work, and had some award presented to her. One sister used to invite Molly in for a Sherry a couple of times a week.
Behind us, in Waldeck road, we had great friends in Pat, and John Greene. Molly and Pat used to jump over the wall at the end of the garden, and visit each other for a chat. One night, Molly returned over the wall from Pat’s house. They had been sitting in front of at big warm fire, having a tot of whatever, and Molly began to feel queasy, so she decided to come home. Molly just made it to the outside toilet, where she got sick into the bowl. She flushed the toilet, and got up feeling great until she left a yelp, and exclaimed, “Jesus, my teeth” She had lost them when getting sick, and she flushed them down the toilet. She never lived that down. She used to keep her hand to her mouth while talking, until she got a new set of dentures. Pat Greene went into hysterics, laughing.
During the years in Arlington Road we were very happy, and soon Sean Kevin was born. His birth was difficult for Molly, and Sean. When delivery time came a Greek midwife attended, and would not call the doctor insisting she could manage. A delivery by her, without a doctor in attendance, meant more money for her. Molly was struggling badly trying to deliver Sean, and I was with her holding her hand, and giving her the mask. Eventually, the nurse got really worried when she discovered the chord was around Sean’s neck strangling him. She called for the doctor, but before he could come, Sean was delivered. He frightened me when I saw him. He was like a skinned rabbit. The poor child was blue and seemed to take ages to start reviving. The chord was wrapped around his neck stifling off the oxygen. The bitch of a nurse nearly cost us the life of our only son. Molly and I have never forgotten this woman. Thank God, there was no lasting damage done mentally or physically to Sean. I picked him up kissed him, and welcomed him into the home, having made eye to eye contact. Sean grew up there and went to Drayton Green School, until we came back to Ireland. However, there were to be a number of worrying times with Sean.
The first was when he had high temperatures, and used to go into convulsions because of this. One day, I had him in my arms, out in the garden, on a summer’s day, and a plane flew overhead. I looked up, and as I did I felt Sean go rigid in my arms. Fortunately his Aunt, Clodagh, who was Paddy’s wife, and who was a nurse, was with us. She made me take him indoors, as he was having a convulsion. We laid him on the bed, and stripped the clothes off, as his temperature was way up. Clodagh saw that Sean was going blue in the face, and she put his head to one side, as he was choking on his tongue. She put her fingers into his mouth, and cleared his tongue. Without her would we have coped? I don’t know if we would have been alert enough, due to worry, but I’d like to think that calm would have prevailed. Thanks Clo!
The next frightening episode with Sean was again high temperature, and the doctor could not figure what was wrong, so he asked me to take Sean to King Edward Hospital. Since I did not have a car and I did not have a phone to call a taxi, I took Sean in my arms on the bus. I felt this was quicker than looking on the main street for a taxi, and then going back home for Sean. Sean was in a semi trance at the time. Eventually, a doctor came out to the waiting room in the hospital, and asked various questions about symptoms.
“Did his bowels move,” the doctor asked.
I said “No” as Sean had started crying due to all the prodding.
The doctor then left and I was alone holding Sean.
“Stop that baby crying.” One nurse blurted out.
I lost my temper, and told her to learn tolerance, and understanding. Sean was taken for X-rays, and I don’t know what else they did, but they brought him back to me, and asked me to wait while they checked the test results. Without warning Sean let his bowls open all over me. It came through his nappy, and was down my front, and my sports jacket was covered in a greenish/yellow watery mess. The smell was unbelievable. I gagged. They took Sean immediately, and said they were transferring him to the Middlesex Fever hospital. He was apparently suffering from severe gastroenteritis, and would be in hospital for quite a while. Nobody gave me even a hint that I might become infected.
I had now got to get back home, smelling like a sewer, and did not relish getting on the bus, but with Sean on my mind, the smell became academic. Everybody I passed gave me a wide berth, and terrible looks. When I got to the house Molly was waiting for news. She had to stay behind with Ann. She held her nose, while I recited emotionally what had happened in the hospital. We both cried for quite a while. My clothes went into the bin.
We went and visited Sean in the fever hospital every day. It was great to see him improving. One thing that always stands out is the greeting we got from him when he saw us. He was strapped in his cot, but had plenty of freedom to move, and jump around. At
first he used to cry a lot when we left, but we soon found he had other interests which occupied him and made him forget us, or that we were even there. When he heard the food trolley coming he would go into raptures, and had eyes only for the door, awaiting the food. We were non-existent at this point in time, and it was a great and easy way to say our goodbyes without upsetting him. When the food came in, he grabbed the plate and went to one corner of the cot, sat down, and made short work of any dish put in front of him. Eventually, all the tests came back clear, and he was allowed to come home.
Sean got over this setback but on another occasion, when I was returning from work one evening, I was motor biking up Avenue Road, in West Ealing when I saw Molly with Ann, Sean, and Jane. Sean’s face and forehead were a mess. He was black, and blue, but in good spirits as Molly had just bought him an ice cream in the nearby shop. Molly explained that she had been window-shopping at a large store, and Jane was in the pram, while Sean was seated on a seat fitted to the pram. Ann was holding Molly’s hand. For a little while Molly took her hand off the pram, and it toppled forward. Sean hit the ground, face first, hence the damage to his face. A woman nearby helped, to get Sean to a doctor who gave Sean the all clear. Poor Molly was very upset and scared that Sean might have been seriously injured.
After Sean, Jane Caroline arrived. As Molly’s time drew close we were in the bedroom, and Molly began to get the pains very quickly. I knew the time was near, and that it was time to get the doctor. As we had no phone in the house, and the nearest public telephone was about a quarter of a mile away, I was in a quandary what to do. I did not want to leave Molly alone, and I had to consider Ann and Sean. It was two a.m. with nobody to help. Neither Molly, nor I thought of asking Pat Greene to pop over while I went to the phone. I could not believe how badly I had prepared for any of the births. My conscience began to explode with guilt.
There was no option but to go to the phone, so I went outside the house, looked up and down the street to see if there might some help around. My prayers were heard, and I saw a bicycle light approaching along the road. I shouted for help, and this young girl got off her bike. When I asked her if she would go and phone the doctor for me she asked what the problem was. When I told her the reason, she smiled, and said “I’m the local district nurse, lead the way.” I was never so relieved. She met Molly, and they got on like a house on fire. The nurse was from Mallow, Co. Cork, so they had a lot to chat about. I got the doctor, and the nurse kept things ticking over saying Molly was not in immediate danger of delivering. I remember poor Molly haemorrhaged badly, despite the best efforts of Dr. Wrangham. After delivery she lay there on top of the bed, shivering. The floor was covered with newspapers, stained with blood. Jane was washed, and put into warm blankets in a drawer on the floor. When I went over to her she had skin like peaches, and her two hands were in front of her face, and I swear she was actually looking at them, and flexing the fingers. I witnessed this delivery as well as I had Sean’s.
Like Ann and Sean, I kissed her and welcomed her into the home. One thing I always think about was, as Jane grew up, but while still in nappies, and not yet able to walk, she took off across the road on her bum, pulling herself with her right hand, while she pushed with her left hand, which was between her legs. Boy, could she move. She was across the road, before I could get her up in my arms. Later, she liked getting a spin on my, 250cc BSA motorbike. I took her around the block, and she loved it. Later, in life she used to ride motorbikes. It was an absolute joy, and difficult to express how lucky we felt having three beautiful and healthy children. Everything was in order, and in the correct places, in each of the children. Thank God we were so lucky.
While in Arlington Road, my first job was at E.M.I (Electrical and Music Industries) in Hayes, Middlesex. I worked in the commercial computer manufacturing side, before being transferred to the Military areas, which were top secret. I worked on the side ways looking radar for the TSR2, Swing wing Bomber, and on the ‘Blue Streak,’ missile. It was here where I got my first sight and knowledge of semi-conductors, transistors, and diodes, plus various new technical advances in electronics. I really enjoyed the work here, but the pay was not great, so I decided to change jobs.
During my time at E.M.I I bought a motor cycle of early vintage, and had been converted from a solid front fork, to a telescopic type fork. It was a 250cc BSA Enfield. My first attempt to sit on it, not to mind ride it, nearly ended in damage to the seller’s front gate. The bike was parked on a sloping drive and I got on it. The stand lifted and the bike headed for the gate with me sitting on it. The owner shouted, “Brake! Put on the brakes!” I stopped the bike about two feet from the gate, and I was shaking like a leaf. I got off the bike, and decided to buy it even though I had never ridden a bike before. The next day, my neighbour and friend, John, who owned a motorbike with side car, came with me and we collected the bike which he drove, with me as a very nervous passenger. I practised riding the bike around the streets of Ealing and gradually got to get the feel for it before I attempted to go to work on it.
One morning I was on my way to work, riding my motorcycle, on a frosty ice covered road, when I came off the bike with a thump. I was not too happy but fortunately I was wearing my helmet and the proper bike gear. It happened as I was going through Southall in Middlesex and I heard a loud noise overhead. I glanced up to see a plane flying very low, coming in the land at Heathrow. At the same time I saw the red brake lights of the van in front of me. I hit the brakes and the bike went under the van as I hit the road and came with a bump against the kerb. Fortunately all I suffered was hurt pride and duly embarrassed I immediately got up, mounted the bike and went to work. To avoid a ribbing I didn’t tell any of the guys at work.
On another occasion I was about four miles from home and got a puncture. For about one mile I pushed the bike and was feeling knackered. A garage loomed in front of me and I bought a tin of puncture repair fluid. The instructions were to pour some into the tube and it would seal the puncture. I tried. I pumped the wheel to no avail. Eventually I poured all the liquid into the tube and no good. There was nothing for it but to push the bike home. After about another mile I gave up and started the engine, mounted the bike and rode home, swearing and feeling browned off. It took me a week travelling by train before the bike was on the road again with a new tyre and tube.
One day when I was at work I got a telegram saying that mammy was not well and to come home quickly. One of my friends arranged for a ticket on Aer Lingus for me and offered to drive me to the airport. I met him at my home where I packed and was not feeling too good as I hoped that mammy was not too far gone, and would be there for me to say my good bye. On the plane I was agitated and unsettled hoping the plane would move faster. We hit turbulence and were shaken up a bit about ten minutes out of Dublin. Eventually, I got home and Sheila, my sister, met me at the front door and told me that mammy had died a few hours earlier. It was at the time we hit the turbulence on the flight over. I went immediately where mammy was laid out in the bed. Daddy had told everybody to give me space and to let me be with alone with mammy I was thankful for that as I cried my eyes out looking at my dear mother’s lovely face. One eye was slightly open and I tried to gently close it. I kissed her cold cheek and wept some more. Later, I carried her coffin and was glad I had at least got this to soothe my loss. She had died four days after her 61st birthday. She was so young. I still miss her and remember all the laughter and good times we had together
For some time I had been looking for better opportunities to improve my career and to get more experience so when I saw an advertisement for a job that appealed to me I immediately applied. From EMI I went to work as a Quality Engineer, for Standard Telephone and Cable Company Ltd. in New Southgate, North Circular Road in London. It was a nice motorbike ride along the N.C. road every day, and was much easier than public transport. Here I was employed as Quality Engineer, for more Military equipment. I worked on Walkie Talkies, for the German Army, under very tight
quality criteria. Due to a large number of rejections by the Germans, I was temporarily transferred to S.T.C in Newport in Wales, to sort out the problems on the factory floor. I was successful in this and got the acceptance rates up to the required level. It also meant I was away from Molly, and the children from Monday, to Friday, for about a month. Whilst I was getting extra money in the form of allowances, I was glad to get back.
Outside of work we had other obligations and amusements that we looked forward to on a weekly basis or more often if the occasion arose. We attended Ealing Abbey for mass. This beautiful Abbey had been badly damaged during the war, and part of it was screened off from view. I remember the priest was looking for donations to rebuild and reconstruct the damaged sections and I like others volunteered to contribute, by making a covenant for life, or otherwise revoked by the church. The priest stated that anyone paying taxes could avail of this option, and that it would not cost anything, except to the tax office, that would refund the tax collected to the church, as a charitable donation. This went fine until the end of the tax year, and I got a bill from the tax office to refund this money to them, as I had not earned enough to pay tax. I went to the priest, and showed him the letter and he immediately revoked my covenant, and said he would repay the money I had paid. This money he said was to, ‘come from, the following church collection plate.’ He was true his word.
It was here in Ealing that I bought two lovely antique clocks for a knock down price. An old man had collected lots of antiques, paintings, statues, and clocks during the war, and had them in his house in West Ealing. I went there one day, and was flabbergasted with the amount, and variety of clocks, from mantle clocks to chiming grandfather, and grandmother clocks from various countries. He told me I could have any of them since I seemed so interested, and he was too old to take care of them. He wanted them to have a good home. I choose two. One was an English kitchen wall call clock, circa 1803 made by “Gregory, Basingstoke,’ and the other was a German chiming clock.