Early memories
My parents moved out of their house, at 47 Devon Rd, Bristol during World War II and went to live with my maternal Uncle Fred, and his wife, Phyllis. Mum and Dad moved because their house was next to a railway line - a sure target for bombers.
“They would” Uncle Fred said, “be caught like rats in a trap” should the line be bombed.
Mum became pregnant with my third sister. The baby was born, named Sylvia, and died soon afterwards. From what I have heard I would guess that she had spina bifida.
Mum and Dad, with my two older sisters then moved into a couple of rooms in nearby Alpine Road. Their own home had been sequestered by “Bristol Corporation” to provide housing at a time when no new homes were being built, and many were being bombed.
In 1944 my twin sister and I were born in that house on Alpine Rd. A bit of family lore is that my father fainted when my twin was born after me, as no-one knew that Mum was carrying twins.
In due course Mum and Dad were able to reclaim their home - I think that the family who’d lived there were named Colson. It was a terraced (row) house - three up and three down. I am told that Mr. Colson owned a horse which he brought through the house to graze in the back garden. Mum said that it took days to clean the house when the family moved back.
Next door lived Mr. and Mrs. Charlton - Uncle and Auntie Charlton. I liked to visit them. They hoarded old newspapers. Their son Claud had been engaged to marry Miss Elsie Lawes. Claud died, and “Auntie Elsie” lived with the Charltons for the rest of their lives, taking care of them, and never marrying. She worked as a clerk for a builder in the Ashton Gate area of Bristol.
The Charltons were members of Easton Road Methodist Church. When I was about 7 or 8 years old Mr. Charlton died suddenly. He and his wife had been to an evening Church meeting, and were walking home - it was a crisp, frosty evening. He “dropped dead” on Vicarage Road. Conversation was hushed, and for the first time in my life I heard the word “coronary” .
Mrs. Charlton died a few years later. I remember being taken to the room where she lay a-dying. I was nine years old, and she said “soon you will be a teenager”. Then she corrected herself - “no, not a teenager, you will have double digits”.
Auntie Elsie was a frequent visitor to our home. She hailed from Bournemouth where she would visit her sister. Elsie would always refer to Bournemouth as “Bourne”, making it sound like a very exotic place. Once her nephew Michael visited, and although I did not understand my feelings ( I think that I was still eight or nine), I knew that I wanted to hang around boys like Michael.
Much later Elsie took in a lodger named Ron. He’d been in the R.A.F. during World War II and had severely frost-bitten fingers. For reasons I did not understand, I never liked Ron very much, but he was very popular with my siblings. We each remember the long lost Christmas-tide photo’ of Ron at our home. He was wearing a cowboy hat and toting a toy pistol. I thought that it was so silly - for in my own way I was becoming quite the little snob.
After Ron’s death, Elsie would be in our home every Sunday for “Sunday dinner”.
She was our favourite neighbour. More about other neighbours tomorrow.
“They would” Uncle Fred said, “be caught like rats in a trap” should the line be bombed.
Mum became pregnant with my third sister. The baby was born, named Sylvia, and died soon afterwards. From what I have heard I would guess that she had spina bifida.
Mum and Dad, with my two older sisters then moved into a couple of rooms in nearby Alpine Road. Their own home had been sequestered by “Bristol Corporation” to provide housing at a time when no new homes were being built, and many were being bombed.
In 1944 my twin sister and I were born in that house on Alpine Rd. A bit of family lore is that my father fainted when my twin was born after me, as no-one knew that Mum was carrying twins.
In due course Mum and Dad were able to reclaim their home - I think that the family who’d lived there were named Colson. It was a terraced (row) house - three up and three down. I am told that Mr. Colson owned a horse which he brought through the house to graze in the back garden. Mum said that it took days to clean the house when the family moved back.
Next door lived Mr. and Mrs. Charlton - Uncle and Auntie Charlton. I liked to visit them. They hoarded old newspapers. Their son Claud had been engaged to marry Miss Elsie Lawes. Claud died, and “Auntie Elsie” lived with the Charltons for the rest of their lives, taking care of them, and never marrying. She worked as a clerk for a builder in the Ashton Gate area of Bristol.
The Charltons were members of Easton Road Methodist Church. When I was about 7 or 8 years old Mr. Charlton died suddenly. He and his wife had been to an evening Church meeting, and were walking home - it was a crisp, frosty evening. He “dropped dead” on Vicarage Road. Conversation was hushed, and for the first time in my life I heard the word “coronary” .
Mrs. Charlton died a few years later. I remember being taken to the room where she lay a-dying. I was nine years old, and she said “soon you will be a teenager”. Then she corrected herself - “no, not a teenager, you will have double digits”.
Auntie Elsie was a frequent visitor to our home. She hailed from Bournemouth where she would visit her sister. Elsie would always refer to Bournemouth as “Bourne”, making it sound like a very exotic place. Once her nephew Michael visited, and although I did not understand my feelings ( I think that I was still eight or nine), I knew that I wanted to hang around boys like Michael.
Much later Elsie took in a lodger named Ron. He’d been in the R.A.F. during World War II and had severely frost-bitten fingers. For reasons I did not understand, I never liked Ron very much, but he was very popular with my siblings. We each remember the long lost Christmas-tide photo’ of Ron at our home. He was wearing a cowboy hat and toting a toy pistol. I thought that it was so silly - for in my own way I was becoming quite the little snob.
After Ron’s death, Elsie would be in our home every Sunday for “Sunday dinner”.
She was our favourite neighbour. More about other neighbours tomorrow.
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