First, there was Teddy Large- a very placid character, eyes always half closed, as if dozing off, always smiling. Teddy was the sort of individual one couldn’t imagine ever being provoked to anger. He used to come to cut Charlie’s hair, every month or so. It wasn’t his trade; it was just something he could do for his uncle, and I believe he gave the service to others. It was his way of putting something back, though, I believe, if ever he had been asked about it, he was so self-effacing, he would have just dismissed it with- ‘Never thought about it’. On arrival, his first act was to fill Charlie’s tobacco pouch from his own. Over and above this, it was understood that, if Charlie smoked during the visit, which was inevitable in a visit lasting an hour or two, then this also must be from Teddy’s pouch, not Charlie’s.
Dolly and Arnie Dyson were brother and sister, children of Charlie’s older sister, Kate. Dolly was a volatile blonde, a hard looking, hard sounding woman. She was always going on about her part German ancestry, neither boasting nor complaining- just banging on about it, as though Charlie’s off-spring, with the same blood mixture, needed any reminding. I think she just couldn’t come to terms with it.
Arnie was a man with a purpose, a mission. He had taken upon himself, a task to perform- a never ending one. All his available holiday time was spent visiting WW2 cemeteries, on the continent. He would do his homework before each trip, collecting the addresses of as many bereaved families as possible, relevant to the scope of each trip. Then he would visit and photograph each grave, and send photos of them to the families, with a brief, explanatory note, which he would sign, but give no address. He didn’t want thanks, and he certainly didn’t want expenses. Some might think this a questionable activity, intrusive, or voyeuristic, but it must be remembered that this was only two or three years after the war. For most of the recipients, this would be the first visual confirmation of a known, identified resting place for a husband, brother, or father, as opposed to the cold and impersonal army letters. The first intimation Betty had of John’s actual grave, was the photo Arnie gave her, showing the temporary grave marker, since replaced by a headstone.
Another ‘double act’ was John Willie Dyson (Arnie’s older brother) and wife, Alice. John Willie (always in full, never just John) was a rabid socialist, horse-faced, sour, like Michael Foot, and with the same socialist haircut. The style, comprising a centre parting, long, lank hair down all sides and back, like a long pudding basin cut, with the front curtains open, was very popular among socialists, for a time. They probably thought it was ‘progressive’.
John Willie’s breathing and voice were shot- he said as a result of working with machines all his life. His conversation was one long moan about the oppression of the working class, the cynicism of the bosses, the ruthlessness of the owners, and the duplicity of the politicians. It might well have been justified, but it was so boring. John Willie could have bored Karl Marx by reading ‘Das Kapital’ at him, at point blank range.
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| Alice and John Willie |
Alice, his long-suffering wife, was as deaf as a post. She had an early, battery-operated hearing aid. It was all black plastic- not something to be discrete about, but something to be flaunted as part of the technical revolution. As far as Alice was concerned, it was something to be used to advantage. The battery casing, in black plastic, with controls, was mounted on a black, Sam Browne-type strap,
the box being sited prominently central on Alice’s ample bosom, the black, fabric-covered wires snaking cavalierly over her shoulder, to the earpiece. When Jane asked her, as she did at some stage in every visit-
“However do you put up with him, Alice?” the question always having to be repeated, louder, in spite of the technical revolution, Alice always replied, with an evil grin, and pointing at the control tower on her bosom-
“I switch him off!”
There were more, still, like Georgie Simpson, whom we meet later, by his allotment. There was one who was a bit precious- only a bit. Made his own shirts. With all these nephews and nieces to choose from, it’s strange that Charlie palled up with one of Jane’s nephews- Gilbert was his name, though he was always known and referred to, in the family, as ‘Ahr Gil’. He and his ‘Uncle Cheearlie’ as he called him, made a very unlikely pair. In the doldrums of the 20s, they would trudge for miles together, searching for an hour’s work, for cash. Ahr Gil had a reputation for dry wit, and two stories survive.
The first occurred in winter. They were trying to earn a few bob by clearing folks paths of snow. They arrived at Abbey Lane- ‘Nob End’ where bungalows sat a-top long gardens, steeper than 45% with front access via flights of steps, 50 or 60. They did have road access at the rear. Shovels on shoulders, our intrepid pair trudged up steps obliterated by snow, towards one bungalow. As they neared the summit, the owner came out, to stand and silently watch their approach. On arrival, ahr Gil asked-
“Ow much to shovel ‘snow off thi path?”
“I’ll give you sixpence”.
Ahr Gil looked at Charlie, who gave no sign, so Gil looked at the owner and said-
“Shovel it thisen”, (yourself) and the pair turned in silence, to trudge all the way down again.
The second story concerns a passing funeral.
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| “Ah can’t be sure…” |
At that time, between the wars, and later, in fact, it was standard, polite procedure, when a funeral hove into view, for all pedestrians to stop and stand, bare-headed, until the cortege had moved right out of sight. On one such occasion, Gil and Charlie were standing respectfully, as a hearse passed by, followed by several cars of mourners. A stranger was standing next to Gil, as they watched the impressive turn out go by. The stranger asked-
“Who are they buryin’ do yer know, mester?”
“Ah can’t be sure, but ah think it’s ‘im in ‘front carriage” replied Gil, reverently.
Occasionally, this surfaces on T.V. as a new joke. We heard it first from ahr Gil.