The Joker, Jack of all Trades, and Christmas Uncle

     Julia’s husband, George, was just the opposite. He was dogged by ill health very early on in their marriage, with an ulcer necessitating the removal of a major portion of his stomach. He regained equilibrium, but his strength and stamina were greatly depleted, leaving him capable of only light work. He was a very capable man- one of nature’s handymen. Electrics, plumbing, metalwork, carpentry, brickwork, soldering- he could turn his hand to anything. I remember one breakfast-time, in the boarding house (later) Julia casually commented that she could do with a bigger window to give more light for working in the kitchen. By teatime, with Alex’ help, George had the window in, glazed, cleaned, reveals plastered, and a new roller blind fitted.
     At the beginning of the war, George was working at a desk, in the Admiralty Office, in Sheffield (I never worked that out, either) in the Newton Chambers building, behind the Town Hall. Just down the corridor was the Navy Recruiting Office, where George would drop in, repeatedly, trying to enlist, to be turned down, repeatedly, on medical grounds. Finally, the recruiting officer had a quiet word with George’s boss who had a not so quiet word with George-
     “Frazer! From next week, I am giving you permission to wear Naval uniform, to  work, because that is the only way you are ever going to get to wear uniform! Now be a good chap, and stop wasting the recruiting officer’s time, right?
     Working for the Admiralty gave him access to black and silver paint. No, I never saw a black and silver ship, either. Happen that’s why they had so much surplus. However when it came to Christmas, and George turned his hand to making toys for me, this is why they were always black and silver. Also the paint was always slightly tacky because they had only just been finished in time. I remember a tommy gun, complete with rat-a-tat effect, achieved by a hardwood tongue trailing on a ratchet, when the handle was turned. I remember a mallet, full size, black handle, silver head. I also remember picking it up, marching round behind Charlie’s armchair, and hitting him smartly on the crown of the head, with as much force as a 4yr old could muster, which was quite satisfactory, judging by Charlie’s yelp.

A Christmas Surprise

     George was the archetypal uncle, in the Dylan Thomas Christmas mould. Over Christmas pudding, everyone else would be diligently searching for the silver 3d bits, which had equally diligently been pushed into the kiddies’ portions, by the women, in their dishing-up huddle, while George would be pulling from his mouth an endless supply of nuts, bolts, nails, washers and such. It was a bit like that regular scene in Marx Brothers films, when someone tells Harpo to empty his pockets. George asked me, once, over Christmas pudding, from two seats away-

     “Neil, is that a cat on the window sill?” I looked at the window (nothing there, of course) heard a ‘Clunk!’ in my bowl, felt a warm splash on my hand, and looked down in time to glimpse a half-crown just disappearing beneath the yellow waves of custard sloshing back into place.

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