Read Online Pie 'n' Mash and Prefabs by Norman Jacobs - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Norman Jacobs
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you were playing. There was no prize for this, just the satisfaction of winning.
As well as providing the space for somewhere to play, the playground also housed the toilets. There was one in the boysâ playground and another in the girlsâ and they were the only toilets for pupils in the school. We didnât have the luxury of indoor toilets. If it rained or snowed, we were allowed to play in the hall or in our classrooms, but there was no such luck if you wanted to go to the toilet â you just had to brave the elements.
I mainly played all my games at playtime as I used to go home for lunch. This usually consisted of a sandwich of some sort and a glass of orange squash. Mum and I would have lunch at the kitchen table while listening to the radio. The programme we liked best was Workersâ Playtime, which used to be broadcast live from a factory canteen âsomewhere in Britainâ. This had begun as a wartime programme to help keep up morale at home but became so popular that it continued until well after the War. Usually, the bill consisted of a coupleof singers and comedians. Some of the singers we first heard on these programmes included Julie Andrews, Anne Shelton, Dickie Valentine and the âgirl with the giggle in her voiceâ, Alma Cogan. My favourites, though, were always the comedians and it was here that I first heard the likes of Ken Platt â âI wonât take me coat off â Iâm not stoppinâ, Al Read â âYouâll be lucky, I say youâll be luckyâ and Tommy Trinder â âYou lucky people!â Oh yes, they all had their catchphrases. It was on this programme that we heard the following joke: âA man came up to me the other day and said, âHave you seen a lorry load of monkeys pass this way?â So, I said to him, âWhy, did you fall off it?ââ I canât remember whose joke it was, and it might seem pretty innocuous, but Mum thought it was hilarious and repeated it for years afterwards.
Mum would always have lunch ready and waiting for me when I got in as she could be absolutely sure of the time. School broke up for lunch at 12.30; it took me seven minutes to walk home, so she was sure Iâd be home by 12.37. However, one lunchtime, I wasnât home by 12.37; I wasnât even home by 1pm because this was the day they started work on converting the bomb site in Chatsworth Road to a block of flats. On my way back, I stopped to watch the lorries move onto the site, bringing in all the necessary machinery as well as the bulldozers ploughing up the rubble. It was a very exciting interruption to the normally routine day and I stood gazing in awe for ages until I suddenly remembered that I had to get home for lunch. When I eventually got back, Mum was very relieved to see me. I shudder to think what thoughts must have been going through her head about why I should be so late back, but she didnât sayanything after I explained what had happened, though it did mean I missed most of Workersâ Playtime.
By the time I was about nine years old, Mum said she wanted to get back to work. It wasnât really that we needed the money, just that she felt a bit lonely and isolated being on her own most of the day. She soon found a job near home at a toy factory in Brooksbyâs Walk. This meant that, for the first time, I had to have the dreaded school dinner. It was a ghastly experience. I was served up with a plate of horrible pulp, which I think was supposed to be minced meat of some description, but the âmeatâ consisted mainly of inedible fat, skin and gristle accompanied by a single hard-boiled potato and some soggy, limp, mushy green vegetable that could have been cabbage, but might have been anything. Even the semolina dished up for afters was no better.
For someone used to home cooking, the food was simply appalling but there was more to come in this completely alien experience as, when I
As well as providing the space for somewhere to play, the playground also housed the toilets. There was one in the boysâ playground and another in the girlsâ and they were the only toilets for pupils in the school. We didnât have the luxury of indoor toilets. If it rained or snowed, we were allowed to play in the hall or in our classrooms, but there was no such luck if you wanted to go to the toilet â you just had to brave the elements.
I mainly played all my games at playtime as I used to go home for lunch. This usually consisted of a sandwich of some sort and a glass of orange squash. Mum and I would have lunch at the kitchen table while listening to the radio. The programme we liked best was Workersâ Playtime, which used to be broadcast live from a factory canteen âsomewhere in Britainâ. This had begun as a wartime programme to help keep up morale at home but became so popular that it continued until well after the War. Usually, the bill consisted of a coupleof singers and comedians. Some of the singers we first heard on these programmes included Julie Andrews, Anne Shelton, Dickie Valentine and the âgirl with the giggle in her voiceâ, Alma Cogan. My favourites, though, were always the comedians and it was here that I first heard the likes of Ken Platt â âI wonât take me coat off â Iâm not stoppinâ, Al Read â âYouâll be lucky, I say youâll be luckyâ and Tommy Trinder â âYou lucky people!â Oh yes, they all had their catchphrases. It was on this programme that we heard the following joke: âA man came up to me the other day and said, âHave you seen a lorry load of monkeys pass this way?â So, I said to him, âWhy, did you fall off it?ââ I canât remember whose joke it was, and it might seem pretty innocuous, but Mum thought it was hilarious and repeated it for years afterwards.
Mum would always have lunch ready and waiting for me when I got in as she could be absolutely sure of the time. School broke up for lunch at 12.30; it took me seven minutes to walk home, so she was sure Iâd be home by 12.37. However, one lunchtime, I wasnât home by 12.37; I wasnât even home by 1pm because this was the day they started work on converting the bomb site in Chatsworth Road to a block of flats. On my way back, I stopped to watch the lorries move onto the site, bringing in all the necessary machinery as well as the bulldozers ploughing up the rubble. It was a very exciting interruption to the normally routine day and I stood gazing in awe for ages until I suddenly remembered that I had to get home for lunch. When I eventually got back, Mum was very relieved to see me. I shudder to think what thoughts must have been going through her head about why I should be so late back, but she didnât sayanything after I explained what had happened, though it did mean I missed most of Workersâ Playtime.
By the time I was about nine years old, Mum said she wanted to get back to work. It wasnât really that we needed the money, just that she felt a bit lonely and isolated being on her own most of the day. She soon found a job near home at a toy factory in Brooksbyâs Walk. This meant that, for the first time, I had to have the dreaded school dinner. It was a ghastly experience. I was served up with a plate of horrible pulp, which I think was supposed to be minced meat of some description, but the âmeatâ consisted mainly of inedible fat, skin and gristle accompanied by a single hard-boiled potato and some soggy, limp, mushy green vegetable that could have been cabbage, but might have been anything. Even the semolina dished up for afters was no better.
For someone used to home cooking, the food was simply appalling but there was more to come in this completely alien experience as, when I
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