Written during 2004 by Hilda Cywan aged 75 daughter of a Polish immigrant tailor who died June 2007 . .

The Jumble Sale

I heard that there was to be a bazaar held at the Old Bayswater Jewish School in the Harrow Road which was due for demolition to make way for council flats . It was late 50’s or early 60’s . I am not sure if my daughter M was born yet. I was newly married and living in Elgin Avenue Maida Vale.

I thought mistakenly as it happens that there might be some Judaica , glasses or linens etc. effects for the old school.

I rang my sister F and asked if she would like to come with me . She was very interested , she knew the school well and said the old Jewish school used to be a few yards down the road . We felt rather sad it was all going. F arrived dressed quite smartly and we set of together. We arrived late , it had either opened early or we had mistaken the time. People were leaving already. I recognized a few women dealers from the Golborn road flea market. They were carrying four black plastic sacks , two in each hand absolutely bulging and muttering “ what a load of bleeding crap” as they rushed towards the gate to hail taxis. OF course I had made a mistake or was misinformed . It wasn’t a bazaar but a jumble sale which had nothing to do with the school. The building had been empty for many years and as a derelict building the school governors must have given permission for the locals to use the hall. Nevertheless as we entered the place F recoiled from the smell of old boots and humans that was overpowering. . There remained a few wilting old ladies wearing huge gardening gloves standing behind the wooden trestle tables and they looked as though they wished they had decontamination suits to wear. The place was now almost clear of everything except dusty old rugs , one or two cups ( chipped of course) and things rejected by the ladies from the Golborn Road as unsealable. I spotted a young trendily dress girl negotiating the cost of an earthenware casserole. She obviously couldn’t agree a price and put it down. I picked it up and the helper said 3 p. I started to pay for it , F was looking disdainfully on , when the trendy girl rushed back and said I’ll will buy it and tried to pull out of my hands. I tugged it back and said I’ve already paid for it . We turned to leave and an old lady , about 70 years old , came into the hall . She looked around and spotted an old hockey stick . It was obviously seen better days and the twine was unravel ling from around the handle. She simply picked it up making no attempt to pay for it and walked out. The helpers were past caring. And F said “ what’s she going to do with that ? “. We soon learned , she tucked it under her arm and we saw her slowly disappearing along the Harrow Road and over the canal bridge.. I felt embarrassed about the whole incident and F couldn’t wait to rush home. She later said she had told her son about it and he said he had never had such a good laugh. I went straight home holding my casserole dish . The woman who lived in the basement flat next door to us was from Lancashire and said “ ooh , you can make a lovely hot pot in that “. I felt like giving it to her but did.’t want to go through all that for nothing.

Dad

When my mother spoke about her father , she spoke with real reverence . She obviously adored him and her oldest sister who had brought her up from a small child. She loved and admired her older sister but my father had a love hate relationship with her as he did with all the females he dealt with. Perhaps it was the result of his having four daughters. My mother said when the third daughter in succession was born and people asked what did she have , he replied “ a baby”. When we were going to visit our aunts ( Mum’s sisters) he used to say we were going to visit the witches or he may have said bitches , with his thick Yiddish accent it was difficult to tell , well they both amount to same thing. When my Dad had occasion to speak to some non-Jewish English ladies they use to look ga-ga. They seemed to like the foreign accent and as he was a Ladies tailor he was not shy or awkward with them. He knew when to turn on the charm. I used to like it when he he got something wrong in English. Once when I was visiting him after Mum had died with Maxine who was only a tiny baby,he said “ it’s Aubrey’s university” - I said “what “ and he said “ you will send him a card from me “. Mum used to do all that sort of thing for him. It slowly dawned on ,me that he meant Aubrey’s anniversary. Mind you , I found out he never entirely trusted my writing or reading anything for him and would check with Frances when she visited him. Some of the Yiddish words he used we never entirely understood but my cousin Rita ( aunt Mary’s daughter ) said “ don’t repeat your Dad’s Yiddish expressions “ so I suppose they were pretty rude. We would talk Yiddish to one another if we didn’t want English people to to understand what we were saying but some were born and brought up among Jews and understood a little especially the curses which he used frequently, our only defense against some of the hostility we encountered. Snowfall It was the first time I had seen snow. Aubrey opened a window and scraped some of the snow off the window sill with his hands and made a small snowball. I copied . I had never before experienced the bitterly cold feeling on my fingers and palms of my hands, that got under your skin and into your bones. I hated it and still dread, hate and detest snow. Next day the snow had become slush, dirty , black , frozen and slippery. The snow shoveling teams arrived. They were the unemployed who were temporarily employed by the Council to clear a pathway in the pavement so that people would not slip. There was a slight incline in the roadway outside our house and I saw a brewery dray horse slip on the frozen wood blocks that the roads were made of in those days , and land on his haunches. The dray he was pulling did not have its brake on and it rolled back onto the horses back. I was too upset to stay and see what happened. Mus said the snow shovelers quickly put sand and salt down and things improved. It was freezing indoors too and Dad would put coats on top of the blankets to try to keep us warm. The non Jewish women had a routine of getting up around half past six in the morning no matter how slummy the place they lived in and would whiten their doorstep with pumice . It was some symbol of their their self -respect. But this activity stopped during the cold spell , the water was frozen and they had to draw water from the nearest standpipe in the street.

Half with hope and half with dread.

A lot of drunken parents were violent. Occasionally a man would sway drunkenly out of a pub having had a skinful . There was an outside lavatory with a constant flow of men going to and fro to use it. The pavement outside the pub soon became soiled . The young children who stood outside waiting for their parents looked like street urchins. I have seen two or three of them gathered three minding a younger child , pre-school age or an infant. They wore rags , pitiful. Oddly enough they didn’t look unhappy in the freezing , damp foggy weather. I don’t know , perhaps the Salvation Army took the children in . Perhaps that is why the troop gathered there watching. Occasionally on the same corner under a lamppost was a budding or established politician standing high on a step ladder with a banner emblazoned on the front proclaiming “ Lab our for the Workers” . Sometimes something being said captured my Mum’s attention and she would stay awhile to listen to what they said … “ The wages of Sin is death , but the Workers wages were worse than death ….etc “ One boy I remember distinctly, he was about 12 years old. He pushed a very dirty broken pram. Inside he had what looked like a pile of comics or newspapers . On top of the pile he would place what looked like a hard-back library book . He would bend his shoulders under the handle of the pram,open the book and read like that near a lamppost . Obviously they could not afford artificial lighting at home and he used to move about still wheeling the pram reading the book by the light of the lampposts. . I was used to seeing him always with his nose in a book . My sister Gertie said , given the chance she could study at University.

Kensington Gardens before WW2

Autumn was a special time to visit “ The Park” - Kensington gardens. If it was a fine dry day we used to jump in the piles of crisp crackling dry leaves that had fallen and kicked them about. . The smell was wonderful. We nearly always walked from Cornwall Road to Bays water Road along Queemsway which was lined with restaurants. The diners were often entertained by a street singer and if he was good pennies would be rained down on him from the windows above the restaurants. Even Westbourne Grove was select then , lit by Victorian Street lamps after dark . I used to watch the lamplighter who rode a bicycle which he would lean against the lamppost and with a long pole light the gas mantle in each am not sure if the lamps used to go out by themselves at dawn light . There was hardly any electricity around yet.

Whiteley’s Department Store in the Queensway was very exclusive then. Mum said you must never enter the shops unless you had money on you . The store had different glass topped counters – each with different shades of the same colour. There was a counter with a pink gloves of all sorts and beads to match and handbags. Each counter had a high bentwood chair where a customer could sit and try on gloves etc. On the right hand side of Queensway going towards the park was Queensway skating rink . We would rush to the side door marked Exit and peek through a slit in the door and see on to the ice rink. Often there was a couple of professional skaters practicing they could do some nifty twirls twists and lifts . We passed Queensway Underground station , incidentally a lot of people who lived in Notting Hill during the blitz used to go there at night to shelter from the bombs. The trains weren’t running and there were wooden bunk beds against the wall on the platforms. It was said to be a very deep tunnel underground . Mum would never let us go and we would shelter at home in Highlever Road under the stairs during the nightly air raids.

Back to Kensington Gardens in the 1930’s , we crossed the road , I believe Aubrey felt we were old enough to go on our own , he was armed with a fishing net on a thin bamboo pole , a jam jar which was held by a piece of string tied round the neck to form a handle . We were going fishing in the Round Pond for sticklebacks , minnows we called tiddlers. At the gates of the park there was a little old lady dressed in faded navy blue clothes , thick stockings and mittens on her hands and a blue battered hat on her head summer or winter , she always dressed the same . She had an old pram with the hood down . Across the top of the pram was placed an old door. She sold confectionery, nut brittle chocolate bars , liquorice pipes etc.

There were blown up balloons pf different colours on strings tied to the handle of the pram and celluloid windmills which were nailed too firmly to the sticks to spin in the wind. In winter there were toffee apples on a stick, the toffee was alright but the apple was usually green , hard and bitter. She told us she had permission from the Royals to peddle here. She was also painted by an R.A am not sure if it was Harold Knight or his wife Dame Laura Knight. This painting was exhibited in the Royal Academy. I believe I saw it. She said she used to sell to the gentry: the nannies used to but the balloons and tie them to prams. The never knew her name or where she lived. Entering the park then was along a wide gravel path with huge elm trees on either side. The trees became diseased and dangerous with Dutch Elm disease after the war and had to be felled. They planted saplings in their place. This walkway was called The Broad walk and led to Kensington Gore. On the right hand side of The Gore going towards the exit was a grassed high mound where grown men used to fly kites. There were never more than six or seven of them at a time . We never seemed to watch them much but if there was s high wind I liked to see the reels of twine which they held in their hands ,unwind extremely quickly as the kites would soar upwards in the wind. The kites flew extremely gracefully. We crossed on to the left hand side and made our way along a flattened grass pathway to the Pond. The Round Pond was extremely crowded with swans and ducks . Model sailing boats also belonging to adult men raced against each other. Mum on this occasion had given us a bag full of stale bits of rye bread and chollah to feed the swans and ducks .

I was holding the bag and dipped my hand in and started eating the stale bits of brown bread myself. I enjoyed it better than crisps.. One of the swans noticed I was holding a bag of crusts of bread and waddled out of the pond to get it. A woman told me to beware of the swans as they can break your arm with their wings. I quickly tipped the bag up to let them have the food. Immediately four or fives swans waddled out of the water and devoured the lot. Aubrey had finished fishing. We always caught too many fish and they usually suffocated or the sticklebacks ate the others. I decided to sit down on a free park bench that was nearby. Already seated there were two uniformed nannies dressed in grey overcoats, navy blue velor hats and gloves to match . They each held on to enormous black antique prams, immaculately kept., must have been passed down for generations, The children in their care were infants. One was sitting up strapped in and propped up by an organdie covered pillows. A navy blue cashmere monogrammed blanket tucked in around them . The baby wore thick knitted bonnets on their heads. I think it was a boy , his arms and hands stuck out over the blanket had thick white woolen mittens tied around his wrists with elastic. The two nannies were engrossed in ech others conversation they neither touched nor alluded to the children in their care . There was a third child, a boy, about three years old standing pale and clutching the handle of the pram . He wore a blue Harris tweed coat with a blue velvet collar and grey knee socks …. on his very slim legs. We used to wear the same type of socks , they were always falling down crumbled over our ankles: I wondered how theirs stayed up .It was getting late , the sun was setting, suddenly the nannies got up straightened their clothes …. and set off. No word was spoken to the children. The elder child gave a wistful look towards the pond and they walked off. It was time for the nursery tea I expect. I think they may have been diplomat’s children living inn the nearby Palace Court Embassies. I don’tthink they could speak English.. It was getting late , the men with the model boats had packed up. Even the swans had moved further into the middle of the pond realising there was no prospect of further food.. Aubrey noticed a solitary toy yacht bobbing about in the water, one of its sails was down. There didnt seem to be anybody to whom it might belong. We waited long enough until it bobbed near enough for us to grab it , but a slight breeze eddied it further away. They used to lock Kensington Gardens at night and a Park Keeper like a Town Crier used to cry “ All out” . I was always afraid of being locked in and it was no different this time. He spotted us sitting there , he pointed to the yacht and asked “do you want it “ he said. I am sure he knew it was’nt ours. He walked round to the side of a hut at the side of the pond and with a long pole with a hook on the end , he fished it out. And gave it to Aubrey. We were thrilled and rushed towards the gates fogetting to avoid the sheep droppings in the grass like little black pellets . All Royal Parks allowed a flock of sheep to grazed there during the autumn months to keep the grass down. At home , Aubrey carefully restored the rigging and adjusted the sails . we could’nt wait to get it back to the Park to try it. We couldnt go every day. We were eventually able to go back . Aubrey carefully placed the boat in the water and with a gentle push moved it about a foot away from the side of the pond.. It foundered a bit and then sank This had a strong moral message for me . You cant prosper over somebody’s loss. An ill gotten gain I feel it might have belonged to to the young child who was clutching the handle of the pram near me He did’nt seem too upset at. The time, He was devoid of emotion, still it was not meant for us to use the little boat. Well brought up some might say . Children should be seen and not heard . That’s a saying much quoted in Victoria times.

Clydesdale Road, Notting Hill

I must have been under 10 , perhaps 4 or 5 years old . I used to like to kneel on a stool and look out of one of the windows of our upstairs flat sitting room. I could hear the traffic passing by in the street below and I liked to see it. There were always horse-drawn carts carrying anything from sacks of coke and coal to deliver customers or coal merchants. Rag and bone men , bales of hay for the stables in the Mews, milk carts etc. Some of the nags were ponies but mostly cart horses, huge great animals whose wagons used to carry the barrels of beer from the breweries to be delivered to the numerous Public Houses. The double decker buses had winding stairs outside the bus for access to the top deck. Buses number 7, 15 and 52 . Also there was a view over the smoky chimney pots over the roofs of the houses in opposite the Church in Clydesdale Road. It fascinated me. You could only see the front and right hand side of the top half of the Church.. there were four turrets on the top , I believe the type of architecture is called Victorian Gothic. It did not have a steeple but a tiled roof of the type you see on a suburban house. These glorious colour , pink terracotta tiles which could change according to the time of day or season. This day remember back to , I knelt on the stool to peep through the window panes. I was shocked , surprised and amazed , everything was covered up with one or two inches of white stuff. Just like cotton wool. Even our window ledge was covered with it. It was coming down fromn the sky which was very grey looking. As I looked upwards at the sky the flakes seemed dark but when they landed they looked blue-white. Clydesdale road was a turning on the right had side off Cornwall road across from All Saints road. Thats is where the Church stood. To tell you about this Church I must begin by telling you of the Irish family that lived in basement flat of our home in Cornwall road. . It was very dull, the front room window looked out on to four or five dustbins , smelling to high heaven. They were called Moriaty, there were three children, Molly , Biddy and Danny. Their mother had done her best to create a home for them in this dim and dark place. She was as thin as a rake with short cut mousy hair with a Kirby grip pinning it to the side of her head . She always wore the usual wrap around apron that working class women on top of there clothes to keep them clean and tidy. She had a big black heater-range on which she used to cook and an enormous fire-guard surrounding it when she was not cooking and she used to dryclothes in front of the range. It could get very steamy in the flat. At the rear of the flat was a small paved yard which we would nowadays call a patio. Brick walls surrounded the yard into which were driven nails to hold a washing line. The father Moriaty was a scaffolder . We saw little of him , I suppose he had to treavel around to find work which was seasonal. Molly the eldest girl was about 12 or 13 , the image of her mother. Extremely religious ardent Catholics. If an Irish Catholic family had a priest or a nun in the family it made them extremely proud. I liked to see Molly dressed for her confirmation ceremony. Her mother had cut down one of her old white embroidered lace petticoats and made a dress. She had a coarse net headdress. I thought it vey pretty. Molly put on a serious religious face and was off to communion. Biddy was very bright and intelligent, maybe a little younger than I was. Sdhe impressed my Dad with the way she could recite 10 to 25 times tables. The convent school juniors educated them better than than our Jewish school. Danny the baby of the family was about 5 or 6 years old . He had a speech impediment and couldnt pronounce my name and called me Oodah , Aubrey was big Oodah and Maurice was little Oodah . His mother said after his first day at school he came home with a black eye. It was about the time of the Coronation of George V ( 1935 ) and child used to play kings and queens . Danny stuck a saucepan on his head to represent a crown and couldnt get it off. His mother had to take him to the hospital in the bus with it still stuck on his head where they prised it off safely. Biddy liked to balance on the top of the brick walls around the yard. They were quite high, One day she slipped and caught he neck on the wahing line and fell on the concrete yard. Mum said she was able to get up . There was an enormous bruise around her throat where the washing line had jerked her head backwards, she was lucky not to have broken her neck. One day Molly said she had seen the statue outside the Church move its head . Biddy insisted we go and have a look. Aubrey , Maurice and me were forbidden to go down Clydesdale road . There were large tenements made into dodgy bed and breakfast hotels,probationers accommodation and prostitutes. Mum didnt explain. Also it was not done to enter or hang around a church. Despite all this I went. When we approached the statue of Christ nailed to the cross it was painted brown hair, no beard , and red paint dripping down representing blood. Molly and Biddy crossed themselves and we stood there clutching the railing around the statue staring at it. After a while , Biddy said , I cant see anything and I said likewise. Molly went into the church and we just drifted away. If Mum had known I would have got a right slapping. Once when we were standing outside on the pavement somebody went by and said “ get out of way Jews and go back to your own country . The mother who was standing at the top of the stairs said “ Ah they can’t help it “ - meaning us being Jews. Well she meant well. We are proud of who we are and what we are and of our roots and dont want it any other way.

Sabbath

I want to write about something Dad told me about when he was a child. in Poland . It was festival time , perhaps Yom Kippur. The weather was unusually fine for that time of year. Dad and and a few of his friends had got fed up with staying in the Synagogue all morning without perhaps anything to eat. They thought they would slip down to the nearby river to have a swim to while away the time. They stripped and left there clothes on a nearby bridge . At first the water was cold and there were eddies of water splashing against the bridge buttresses . They splashed the water over their bodies and started to float and splash about. It felt divine , after all they say wash your sins away. Suddenly my Dad noticed one of his companions was near the river bank looking up at a man standing their. Dad swam nearer to see what was happening and recognised the Rabbi from the Shul they had just left. He did not speak but gestured them towards the Shul. They all saw him and quietly got dressed and returned to the Shul. Sneaking in quietly the place was very crowded . They noticed thw Rabbi standing on the Bemah conducting the service. I was a very integral part of the service . They whispered among themselves , how did he get back so quickly. Afterwards they asked around, did the Rabbi leave the Shul ? Of course not he had been there all day, he had to be and they looked upon them as if they were crazy. More to the point , where have you been ?. Who had the boys seen on the bridge ? Was the Rabbi in two places at once ? Can he de-materialise ? Thet were convinced it was not a case of mistaken identity and Dad was certainly not psychic in any way at all.

Earliest Memories

It must be my earliest memory. Being wheeled in a large pram sitting opposite the hood with my back to my mother and the handle of the pram. There was trap in the middle of the fram floor which when removed could provide space for a child to put its legs through and sit upright. It was s warm day . I can remember being wheelesd over the canal bridge in Harrow Road which had wrought iron railings painted green on eiither side of the bridge through which you could see the canal water. I remember it being a very bumby ride over the hump of the bridge. The date must be about 1931. I dont think it was a dream or a false memory. Mum told me one day that my cousin Percy one of aunt Marie’s sons had a furniture shop in the Harrow Road,where Perrings’ furniture shop was. The incident I remember must have been that Percy and Phyllis his wife must have given the old pram to my mother for Maurice whom was already born or about to be. Percy had two children , Harry who is the same age as Aubrey and who looked like Rowan Atkinson and I believe is a doctor now in Australia, it was probably his pram originally. Avril Harry’s sister was not born yet. Hannah told me that she was wheeling me in the pram up St Johns Hill ,Ladbroke Grove which is quite a steep hiill., I was not strapped in and kept bobbing up and down and fell out of the pram on my head . Hannah would have been about 11 years old , I believe Aubrey was with her and he would have been about 3 years old . She said there was a granite public drinking fountain with metal cups attached to it by a chain. We were told never to drink from the cups as tramps may have done so and you could catch all sorts of diseases from them. A road sweeper from the Borough saw the incident and picked me up and bathed my head in the water. Hannah said she always felt some guilt about the incident fearing I could have been left brain damaged , she said jokingly that she is not so sure it didnt . I have no recollection of the incident at all. Incidentally in the 1960’s and early 80’s I went to work for the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea as it became to be known, from a centralisation plan by the government . Kensington and Chelsea amalgamated . I worked for the same department as that roadsweeper in the Office of Personnel Public Cleansing Department as an Audio Typist, I loved working there and it changed my financial situation for the better. I still love St John’s Hill and the Church with a cockerel on the top of the steeple weather vane. The cockerel reminded me of a nursery rhyme which went “ Help a chick” and was about a eather vane where the chick wanted to come down. Mick and I have been to some excellent bazasars held in that church and surrounding buildings. Its a pity thay stopped having them. Mum would have had a fit, she would never have entered a church.. Hannah said she can remember sheltering from the rain with her classmates under the portico of that church . They may have been making a noise because the vicar came out and go away “ the church is not to used as an umbrella – very Christian I must say. Hannah was knon to exaggerate a story so I am not sure was as she reported. It was like when Mum used to explain something she had heard on the wireless to Dad in Yiddish , it either lost or gained something in the translation. used to wish I could line up that hill. I could just see the top of it from my classroom window

Portobello Road School , over the tops of the trees. It used to set me day dreaming. I can also remember lying in my pram indoors and watching Dad go round the edges of iron sprung wooden framed bedstead which was leaned upright against a wall, with a lit candle in his hand . He was looking for bedbugs. The sdides of the pram I was sleeping in had a dirty beige or white Rexine lining and I am sure I was not comfortable. I can also remember when Mum brought Maurice home from the maternity hospital Queen’s Charlottes . I wa sitting on one of Dad’s sleeve boards near and open fire with no guard. Dad would mark up the cloth on his table with tailor’s chalk ready for basting. When he was worried he would hum to himself which he would do subconsciously later on in his life. I noticed Hannah would do the same if she was disturbed by her thoughts. Mum had been very ill during her confinement , I believe she was in hospital for months. The door swung open wide and Mum appeared carrying the baby wrapped in an enormous white knitted shawl.. Dad said I am just cutting out a coat for you , immediately thay started shouting at one another . I suppose it was a release from tension but I cannot reecall anything else from this incident . I was two and a half years old. Later when Mum was in front of the fire breast feeding Maurice the side pieces of the mantlepiece fell on he knee. I am not sure if it was made of plaster or marble but the place was a slum falling appart from neglect and disrepair.

Antisemitism in the 1930’s

I came across antisemitism when I was very young. There were certain areas even in the Portobelo Rd where we were’nt entirely comfortable . We got some idea about how people fel about Jews in Britain- “ Taking all our jobs “ “ Doing alright here” “Kikes” “Shonks” . Some people seemed to be nice but were very Jew conscious . I was called Rachel in a sneering way. Even our names were some sort of disguise. Mum said it would be easier to get a job interview if you didnt have an obviously Jewish name.. On paper they may not realise you are Jewish. Later on there were so many others disguising their Jewish origin that the names they chose were similar making more obvious. For example many “Cohens” chose Conway .

Gertie went for a teaching interview at Harrow Wealdstone , first the Headmaster asked “ will you be wanting the Jewish holidays ? “ ( It’s been asked of me at job interviews too. ) and then he came out with the remark “ what will you do if the Hitler came out in me “? .She took the job nethertheless and stayed teaching there for many years and made lasting friendships with the rest of the staff. I never met any physical violence from fascists . The Fascist party in this country used to have signs painted on walls and bridges in white paint PJ which stands for Perish Judah with a lightning flash in a circle – a flash in the frying pan. Even as late as the mid 50’s after the second world war I came across it . There was a Bavarian man employed in the Coal Board to purchase equipment running into millions of pounds.. He was giving a party for one of his staff who was leaving. I noticed how he cut a loaf of bread , holding it up to his chest and cutting off slice. I said to Mrs Moore who I worked with “ he never lays it flat and cuts it” , she was standing close to him and heard him mutter “ what a bloody Jew” and made the sign of the cross. Mum used to say “ sticks and stones may break your bones but names will never hurt you “but broken bones can heal , but name calling can echo through your mind through the years. Mum sid throughout history no enemy of the Jewish people has erver prospered for long. This particular gentleman collapsed while he was walking down a stairway at work . I dont wish him any harm . But there were one or two irregularities they found about his orders. An automatic coal cutting machine they could not trace costing ?80,000 . All our equipment he was responsible for ordering down to rulers, pencils, typewriters were manufactured in West Germany but perhaps they were the only ones manufacturing them at this time. I must say he was always pleasant to me , offering to get me Pumpernickel and Strudel which he felt I liked

Going home from school alone

In winter on Fridays we would be let out of school early as Sabbath would come in as the sun set . Food had to be prepared and cooked ready for the Sabbath meal before it was dark outside. When you were eight years old you were considered old enough to go to and from school alone. Mum had met Maurice at the school gates earlier as he was still in the infants. Aubrey went off with his friends from his class . Nobody in my class lived in the same direction as I did.the headmaster Mr.Mendoza had given each of us a stiff cardboard leaflet with the rules of road safety printed in it. He had recited the words to us and said make sure you remember and observe them.

Stop, look and listen
Look left and right
Make sure the road is clear and cross I hurried through the school gates past the red telephone box, ( nobody’s in there who could grab you ). Past the Royalty cinema . We used to go round the back to look for old bits of film negatives but not today as I was on my own it would be dark soon . Passed Davis’ dairy and the Bank on the corner of Lancaster Road and Ladbroke Grove . In those days in the 30’s there were no electric traffic lights were installed yet. There were traffic beacons very like they look today called Belisha beacons ( after Hoare Belisha who was then Home Secretary ) but without flashing lights, the raod crossing was marked out with metal studs. At the kerbside I started reciting the traffic safety verse to myself but not really taking in the instructions – I only knew I had to remember it ! I dashed across the road, of course thare wasnt as much traffic around as there itday. On the other side by the Library ,I wondered should I go along Ladbroke Grove to Cornwall Road , as there was a Public House on the corner and drunks would be coming out. I glanced along Lancater Road, seemed alright that way . Run pastb the Camden Institute and the Serbian Church and JP Williams builders Yard.. Futther along was the house where Dad’s waistcoat maker worked in the basement , his name was Ross ( originally Rosenberg) , his nickmame amongus was “The Madonna” - he was supposed to be hansome- I think they meant ” The Adonis “ , as far as I can remember he looked like Gerry Springer . At the kerbside edge of Lancaster and Portobello Road , it was Friday , a busy market day and danger lurked, Looking and listening I heard the sound I was dreading. On the opposite outside the Public House was an old Taxicab , hanging down on one side of the cab was strung some tubular bells , long metal pipes, but apart from the eerie sound , whoever was playing them made it sound forlorn there were these people dressed up old clothes and wearing full length evening dresses – hideous wth.false eyelashes that looked like spiders legs round their eyes .They were very large men with high heeled shoes on . They looked so grotesque to me and what with the sound it made it made me tremble. Quick, quick run across the road , turn right and go down Portobello Road pass the stalls. On this side of the Porto , was a haberdashers shop with a Jewish lady who owned it , she was called Mrs Temple, sitting in the doorway of her shop was her dog an enormous Old English Sheepdog. The sight of him calmed my nerves. Iput both my arms around his neck, he stood up and wagged his tail. At last some normality. I wish they would be quieter said a customer leaving the shop – we had a busker playing a musical saw before. The market was noisy anyway with lots of street cries from costermongers to attract people to their stalls. . Turn the corner into Cornwall road , only a few yard now.Oh no ! That mad person my Mum would say let him run around. There were no tranquilisers then ..People who were mentally disturbed didnt get much treatment them except Electic Shock Treatment . Thank goodness a case of mistaken identiy. Danger still lurked, there was a huge fierce dog , not on a lead that used to snarl and bare its teeth. Then owner used to say “he wont bite you “, I dont know how she can vouch for the dog’s character like that.

Across Basing Street past the first house on the left, Goodman the tailor was sitting crossed legged in the front room on a table sewing .Pass the Yugin’s factory making tailors’ dummies and turn the last corner into Cornwall Road and home at 106 the second house from the corner house where the Marks family lived., Barney Marks the eldest son was a keen cyclist he was also reputed to be a Blackshirt ( member of he BUF the fascist party ) - the Marks family emigrated to South Africa. Our house – quick, quick , run up the run up the four or five steps in front of the house , Stand on tip toes to reach the huge heavy black knocker . Don’t be long comong to answer the door I was thinking . I was level with the windows of the front room of Mrs Solomosns who occupied the Ground Floor flat. I saw the machine lace curtains move , Mrs Solomona had a huge Aspidestra plant, in a porcelaine pot its leaves looked dirty . ‘Whats the hurry’ she said as she opened the door to let me in ‘is there someone after you ’ ? . I thought there had been so much danger I could not speak . The sky was still light. I climber the stairs to our flat , the layout was almost identical to our flat in Elgin Avenue only the other was round. Dad was pressing something on his sleeve board There was a delicious smel of fried onions and beef fat frying on a small gas ring . ’ Go upstairs and helf der mamma “ he said . Good she here . When I got upstairs the familiar sight of the pail ( bucket ) filled with soapy water and the sound of a scrubbing brush scraped across the bare boards , filled my ears, Thank goodness she’s here ,. she’s here . She said can you grate the salt . The salt was in a solid six inch block which you had to grate over a bowl to turn the block into a loose powder. We had a round mahogany table in the Sitting Room and I noticed the pair of brass candlesticks which already looked polished . There was a folded white tablecloth ready to be cover the table top. The salt would go into a crack and the chilblains in my hands and hurt for days.I was used to it . I didnt care I was home , I had done it – I had come home on my own. When I think of it now ,it was almost like crossing a minefield , for me at 7 or 8 years old. Thank goodness I missed the major terrifying experience for me then. It was a very large carnival head of Mickey Mouse .I loathed its staring blank looking button eyes . He or she , I do not know if it was a man or woman it was dressed entirely as Mickey Mouse. Mickey was only just begun showing on the screen in the cinemas at that time. They played a tin whistle and if they saw a child, especially one that recoiled , they would dance around you and follow you and not give up . I don’t know if I sensed the vibes but I felt all was not well with this person and they would be capable of doing something wicked.. My mind went forward to think about a return to school on Mondy . It would be alright going there as Mum would be taking Maurice at the same time as I started. Mum must have read my mind because she said “ because it get dark early now you will be coming out at the same time as the younger ones “ , and all anxiety faded.

All Saints Road and St Lukes Mews

Note : St Luke’s Mews runs between Basing Street and All Saints Road On the other side of the road to the St Luke’s Mews in All Saints Road was a wholesale grocery shop . The family called it Beckers . Their son was living with a nob-Jewish girl perhaps thats why Mum never shopped their . He was Frances’ husband Hymie’s nest friend since childhood. You pass Siversteins the haberdashery you come to Spiro’s a Jewish owned grocery and delicatessen store . The path to the counter was very narrow as on each side of the floor were shelves full of goods, rice, tea, barley and haricot beans and goodness knows what else There were a few wooden barrels . I liked to put my hand on them . One had a bung and a tap and you would fill up a bottle with vinegar from it. Another barrel contained salted herrings and you could put your hand and arm into it up to your elbow and fish out a herring. I used to plunge my hand into it right to the bottom thats where the juiciest and best salted one were.. On the counter was a glass cube shaped tank about 18” high which contained pickled herrings cloves. There was sometimes a nasty smell if some of the eggs they were selling had gone had gone bad. At the back of the counter were shelves stacked with a nyriad of goods and advertising signs , … Scotts Porridge Oats etc etc . If money was very tight Mum would send me to the shop holding a note scribbled on an envelope or the back of a tea packet , asking for something on tick . I was not the only one doing it and when the grocers wife used to spot children with penciled written notes in their hands her face would drop. Nevertheless their requests were never refused. They were in no way hostile to us . The wife never stopped working , weighing , packing small navy blue bags with rice, sugar or tea they had to weigh a lot nothing was sold loose. The aroma in the shop was like a melody , some smelling, louder, stronger and more pleasing to the nostrils. If you wanted chopped herring the grocers wife would fish two out of the glass pickling jar with some onion rings pickling with them., then on to a chopping board . skin and fillet the herrings then chopped them together with hard boiled eggs. It tasted delicious. She then put the mixture in a small paper carton and it was ready to take home. Mum used to roll up newspapers to swot flies , there were a lot of them around i those days. Once Dad struck a wasp that was buzzing arounds and landed on my arm , of course it stunk and was very uncomfortable. There is a story that my brother Aubrey was having a picnic at Perivale and was stung on the bottom when he had his trousers down obeying a call of nature. Back to Johnny Myers Kosher butchers shop shop . He had two shabby chairs , one of which were placed newspapers to wrap up the parcels of meat , the other chair had old film magazines printed in sepia or black and white with glamorous photographs of film stars or stills from their latest movies.I loved looking through these magazines and wanted when I grew up to look like these female glamorouscreatures. Johnny’s wife was one of those women who had a thick round body and very slender legs , she was said to be a very tough nut . Mum said the only way to win favour with her was to talk about her young daughter Bina . Io never knew her but always asked after her. She used to be please and give us half a dozen old film magazines. They also had a board advertising the latest film showing at the local cinemas , in exchange for displaying the boards they were given free passes to the cinemas . She used to give them to my mother and my sisters would go to the see the films free. Johnny Myers used to have five of six parcels of meat wrapped in newspaper in his window or on a mantle-shelf ( his shop was really a converted ground floor flat ) . He would say here’s your order and pick one up. During the war ( 1939-45 ) the Ministry of Food said they must used greas proof paper wrapped round the meat before wrapping it in paper. During the war Milly was convinced that Johnny was giving her short weight. She acquires a scales and weighed the meat soon after she bought it, it was according to her 4 ozs underweight. She took it to food office and they made a report , they said if it happens again keep the receipt and we will prosecute Johnny had a twin brother Alex who had terrible acne on his face. He always seems to be standing on the shops steps, looking out for the bookie I suppose. Further down the street was a tailors trimmings shop .We never went to buy anything in there, They had a son the same age as Aubrey,or a little older. His name was Ronnie Silverstein . He had white blonde hair cut in a crew-cut and blonde eye-lashes. Mum said Mr Siverstein was a “ miserable sinner “ He never seemed to smile or greet anybody. .

Portobello Uurchins

We hurried along with our new found treasures . I dread o think what infectious diseases these toys may have harboured .Shul was out by ths time. The guilt feeling of having been shopping on Sabbath gradually faded. We passed down on the opposite side to the cinema ( we callerd the flea pit ) and there was a sight my young eyes had never seen before. I saw it once more and and it I believe has never left sensitivity. Children under 14 years of age, absolute rags, no shoes , some had boots too large for their childlike feet . Standing ankle deep in the gutter scavenging for any rotten fruit thrown away by. the costermongers The stalls had packed up and were drawn away by some unemployed for the sum of a few pence to be stored in the mews garages rund about. Everything had to be packed , they couldnt keep trading after a certain tme. The Corporation , The Royal Borough of Kensington used to have a lorry full of disinfectant, carbolic no dout to clean the gutters and drains in case of rats. The raggamuffins had to be quick before it arrived

Unemployment

Working class people wre not lazy, there was terrible unemployment in the 30’s and mostly men were ever searching for omething they could earn a coin or two from. There was no inflation things were inexpensive. The weaslthy lived extremely well , labour was cheap . The upper classes were idle , their lives seemed seemed to filled with the pursuit of pleasure. The wages of the workers were barely enough to sustain them. Most unemployed could not afford a newspaper so they would go to the local library reading room to look through the vacancy columns of the various publications. It was warm too. The library had also had notice boards by the Mens Lavatories at the corner of Ladbroke Grove and Lancaster Road where the library would pin columns of vacancies cut out from newspapers . All the men seemed about the same age and wore grubby flat caps. They came from far afield , Scotand etc. to try to find work in London. If there was a snowfall the Borough would employ them for now shovelling clearing a pathway on the pavement with a simple shovel. They didnt have gloves or warm clothing. You used to see them in gangs at a time grateful to earn a few shillings. The conersation was mostly about the Dole and the Means Test. Oddlly enough I think the second world war cleaned up the unemployment problem and ended this sort of poverty.

A vist to my cousin Arthur.

There was a crumpled blue ribbon slotted across the middle and I had a hideous matching bow in my hair.This day my older brother Aubrey , 9 years old had a jersey on with a hole at the neck where some stitches had dropped , he had knee length grey flanned trouses which my mother made and a striped belt with a snake buckle at the waist. Mum had sent us both to vist our cousin Arthur and his wife Milly . He was about 34 years old and a tailor like my Dad we made our way through the cobble stoned Mews , the heat burning through ny very thin rubber soled canvas shoes. The Mews smelled of horse dung s the costermongers used to stable their horsed there. Grains of oats and hay which had fallen from the nosebags of the horses lay in the joints between the cobbles, As we passed through the Mews ,one of the stable doors was open and inside it was dark but we got a gimpse of 4 or 5 men surrounding another man – others were arriving with notes scrbbled on the backs of old tea packets. Street betting was unlicensed and illegal. Another man was sitting on an orange box glancing nervously up and down the Mews, he was a tout on the lookout for the police. We passed hand in hand unnoticed and crossed and reached the top of the Mews , crossed All Saints Road and walked down another Mews . We turned left down St Lukes Road and reached our destination . It was a shabby Victorian hosed. The steps in front were hazadous , no handrail. There was a huge knocker on the door which had not been painted for years. The knocker was …… #

…On a previous visit, I picked up his tailors shears and put them down. He turned round and put a hat on his head, in the band of which was stuck 4 penny bars of Nestle’s chocolate bars. We were transfixed , he carried on leaning on his pressing iron. “ What are you staring at ? “ he said. We loved the chocolate bars we got of course. He had a great sense of fun. When we were about to leave his wife ( Milly ) who was his buttonhole and felling hand, she had a beautiful bone structure. I knew my mother was not too keen on her and I felt disloyal for liking her
Milly’s husband Arthur ( Avram ) was related to both my father and my mother. Hen he died aged 39 in 1936 it was first brush with loss. I cam eto terms with it thing , my father had left the land where he was born. He could neither read nor write , he left his father and brothers knowing he would probably never see them again. I pretended that my cousin Arthus had boarded a train , starting on a journey to a new land where he would be safe and well. This was I came to terms with the sadness caused by his death.

Millie

She had a very modern outlook on diet advocating eating lots of fruit and veg . Mum was convinced she was starving our cousin Avram ( her husband ) ,looking at him it didnt seem so, in fact when she was widowed and sharing her flat with a lodger Pauline who was also her companion and friend , I went to collect some buttonholes she had finished for Dad . She asked me to stay and have something to eat. There was a tiny round table with three bentwood chairs around it. She dressed the table with a cotton table cloth and gave Pauline and I a bowl with latkes and chopped meat in it , It tasted good. I was beginning to question my mothers opinion of her. Milly would give us a banana each which see peeled back so the skin covered our hands. She said “eat it in the shade”. I heeded her advice and walked near to the railings and walls under the trees.She had lots of sayings like that like “ do you know pears are good for you, but mind the worms “ this saying led me to write my first sentence when I was in infant school … ’ Pears are good for you, but sometjimes they have worms in them ‘… for which I got a merit mark . Milly went to a cupboard and brought out a tin and a crumpled paper bag that the market traders used to put fruit in, twist round until two little earflaps showed . Itfascinated me . She dipped her hand in the tin and drew out a couple of handfuls of broken biscuits and handed to us to take home. I loved the variety of these.

Dad

We used to like going for a walk along Holland Road Notting Hill , the grounds of Holland House and the park surrounding it were open to the pulic in those days . There was a narrow public footway , passage which led through to Kensington High Street called Aubrey Walk There were high walls on either side of the path where you could see the tops of huge trees. The wall on the left hand side going towards Kensinton High Steet you could see broken glass embedded in cement against intruders. Dad said some of the houses belonged to wealthy Jewish families who did charitable works among the numerous poor Jews in the district. For instance my older sisters Hannah and Gertie belonged to a girls club ( The Beatrice Club ) run by Sybil Rosenfeld Joseph and Miriam Moses .They allowed the girls to have access to the tennis courts attached to their family mansions. You could not see tham but you could hear sounds of tenneis being played behind the walls Further along Aubrey Walk you could see fencing and one could glimpse through and see woodlands around Holland Park House and hear the eerie sound of peacocks calling each other. On this day the sky looked strange , dark in places with beams of light streaking through when the sun shone. Pleasantly warm the leaves of the trees trembled very slightly as if communicating with each other. Birds flew down from the trees and settled on top of the walls. There was an air of expectancy. Dad who could read weather said “ its going to thunder and we must get away from these trees ” . No sooner had he finished speaking then there was an almighty flash of lighting and thunder clap and the rain came down like I have never seen before or since. Unprepared as we were we were drenched and our clothes wringing wet. Four or five days late I contracted measles as a consequence of this my parents bought me a rubber mackintosh with brown inner lining. It was hot to wear and there were eyelet under the armpits because it could make you perspire.I loved that mackintosh simple because it was the first garment bought especially fore me and not passed down. It seemed to me at that time it was a good idea to be ill as you were treated exceptionally. Children do love certain garments for various reasons. I remember when I bought some wellington boots for my daughter Maxine , she was always nagging for flip-flops .She loved the wellies so much she went to bed in them.

Aubrey

My older brother Aubrey

When he got older we were’nt allowed to mention his friends names or even look at them. He was a faddy eater but being male he always got the best out of the meat etc. My sisters and me got the inferior bits. I used to eye his plate hoping he would leave some tasty morsel. He wasnt greedy he would’nt eat rice on principle , he said a Chinese he said a Chinese could exist on a spoonful for days. As he became more educated he became more distant.

Mum

My mother was the least vain person I had ever known . Under 5'0” tall she had very delicate features , small nose , she did not look particularly Jewish. Heavy legs and bad varicose veins . I can remember what she was like best when she was around 40 years old ( 1934 ) . She would never leave the house without a hat on her head , it was not the custom in those days for ladies to go out bareheaded. She never wore make-up. To prepare to go out she wou;d say , “where’s the comb” she had very pretty hair. Then the search would go on for her hat “ where’s my hat ? “ she would say , either on of us was sitting on it or the cat ,if she left it on a chair. The hat had seen better days nethertheless dhe would shove it on her head without even a glance in a mirror , put a hat pin through it and that was it. She never carried a handbag. She had a purse that snapped shut otherwise she would have loose change in her coat pockets. She was without a doubt a “talky” thats wht one of the teachers in school called me. When she left the house she would only have to have taken a few steps and she would find someone to converse with. There were no soap operas then . Anyway they knew enough about one another from the East End and even way way back in Poland . Mum would say “ I knew about their Bubbas ( Grannies ) .

Her shopping expeditions used take a long time and Dad would go down to look for ’ der Mumma ’ . It was never difficult to find her. Sure enough she would be gossiping with a neighbour and had not got very far. When she got home she would tell Dad the latest gossip, but she would embroider it to make it more juicy. Even the actual shopping took a long time . “ Don’t buy from that stall ,the best stuff is at the front on display and he he will take inferior goods from the back where he’s standing “. The next stall was’nt right either , he would put his scales on a slope and he would tip the scales with his finger. At last we would find a coster my mother trusted . There was the haggling to do . She nearly always got her way. I am sure she was well liked and she was unconsciously funny .
New Year

Notting Hill

Its over a year now since two of my sisters Frances and Hannah died . I thought I would try and write about what they told me of the past since they did not write or record any of their memories .Frances once said “ I go back a long way” .Gertie my eldest sister you would have thought was the eldest sister would have been the richest source , unfortunately she is unable to remember . She is 90 years old in November this year. ( 2004 ) .

Once when i was sitting in a bus with Frances passing through Notting Hill Gate she said she could remember it before the horrible road widening scheme 2 – so can I , which incidentally has’nt worked , the Aothorities never realised how dense the traffic would be in future. Frances told me the streets were very nice and the shops and buildings quaint. The roadway was made of cobble stones, the horse and carts they then used to rattle as they traveled over these stones .Once the Council had laid down straw all along the roadway to muffle the sounds of the passing traffic as somebody was on their death bed in a nearby dwelling. Possibly the date was the late 1920’s. She also told me that when she was very young , she used to pass the Jewish baker’s on the corner of Cornwall Road ( now Westbourne Park Road ) and Colville terrace. She married one of his sons Hymie. He had seven sisters and two brothers, Issy ( who had died when he was a teenager ) and Tony . Frances said the smells coming from the bakery below the shop were intoxicating. They used to have a side window open with thick bars on it to prevent burglars. As their were so many of them when they used to speak to one another it sounded if they were having an argument ( row) . They lived in accommodation over the shop. She said that when she met Hymie , later her husband , they would poke their tongues out at one another. When Mum took them to Kensington Gardens , she would prepare a roast dinner , potatoes , onions meat, The baker Hymie’s Dad would let them put the dish in the oven for the cost of a penny, and it would be beautifully cooked and ready to take home and enjoy. Dad liked his food especial;sly fatty and schmaltzy and couldn’t wait to get back to eat it.

Hymie’s father was called Nissan n Nathan in English was described as a diamond. He looked like an Arab , very dark complexion , his wife was described as a tough nut. We never knew her name , they never mentioned their name if they weren’t liked – like my mothers stepmother. We never knew her name until Aubrey started his genealogy. Jewish people usually had nicknames for one another – as practiced by Mick and I, . If I don’t know their name we would use their most complimentary ( sic ) feature,e.g “The sly looking one “ or “ hattie” for someone who always wore a hat. Hymie’s Dad had a tricycle with a large box in which he put the goods , over the front wheel. With his name ROBINSKY painted on the side of the box. He had enormous feet , “kipper feet” Dad would say and was tall and thin. Dad’s nickname for his was our English equivalent of “grizzly” like a bear. Frances was careful never to let it slip out in front of Hymie. He had a few shop premises in Hotting Hill which he sold mistakenly cheaply. Nowadays with these assets he could have been a millionaire. One of these shops in All Saints Road was sold to a lady doctor – Fanny Rabinowicz . She was attractive but I think she was lame. Frances said that one day she was visiting her surgery and somebody was coming out of her consulting room – the doctor was shouting “ what do you want me to do about it , its Anno Domini – I am sure Doctors would like to say that sometimes nowadays. Incidentally , all this happened before I was born and the memories are from before I was 10 years old.

Fog

I always quite liked fog or smog. When i was working in the Coal Board we were allowed to leave work early for our journey home. As I didnt live too far from Cricklewood I regarded this time off as a bit of a perk ,of course it really was for ,those who lived further asway in case the trains halted. Portobello Road I almost recall on a damp cold foggy day. In the daytime the fog looked just like smoke milling around. Eveningwas when you could see the nature of it. By the gas lit lamp posts you could see it swirling around an eerie green colour. It tasted as if you were inside a smoking chimney pot, soot, soot, soot which made your face smutty and got up your nostrils. I can see clearly in my mind the Salvation Army Band gathering around the lamp post in at the corner of Lancaster and Portobello roads opposite the pub on the on the corner.They played various instruments , and rattled tambourines . Mostly they sang and played “ onward Christian Soldiers “ One of the ladies would put her foot in the Pub door and rattle her collecting box. You could make out in the dim light from the interior it was not particularly crowded with people. Most working class people men held huge glasses of liquor . Usually there was a child waiting at the entrance to the pub holding a glass with some lemonade or ginger beer. Children were not a;llowed inside to see if the parents had run out of money and had finished drinking. They would turn their heads sharply to see if the adults had finished supping.

The Portobello Road

The licenced traders lined the kerbside with their names printed on their stalls ,which you will notice still around. Their families have traded there for generations : Newman , Spencer, Lee etc. The unlicened ones were usually sited against a wall or shopfront, seated on upturned old orange boxes using an assortment of things to didplay their wares in hoodless prams. And carts made form old wooden boxes or funiture. We always tried to buy from the unlicensed ones as they were cheaper. They did not pay a licence fee. Most of the Jewish people were emigrants from East Europe, the lower classes nearly all had trades. Both men and women used to shop. I always felt an air of expectancy especially at festivals ( Yomtovim ) when I was a child. I dont think there was such a rich ethnic mix as nowadays. Some of the good being sold would not be there then – West Indian fruit, sweet potatoes, plantain and green beans. Greek food, olives, vine leaves , Greek honey , feta cheese.

Portobello Road was a noisy place , the street cries of the costermongers , beggars singing – you were not allowed by law to simply beg you had to do something, sell , play an instrument or sing. Drunks added to the hubbub.You could hear Yiddish being spoken as the womenfolk rushed about busy to buy food at a bargain price to feed big families at Sabbath or festivals. The smells varied the fish stalls had a high ammonia smell. Some stallholders sold eggs , you could smell the ones that had “gone off”. Occasionally an aromatic smell would waft across froma bakery – yeast. The oil shop as my mother would call the ironmongers had its own distinctive aroma. Parrafin, bundles of firewood , galvanised buckets and drawers of different nails and screws. The wooden floor always looked grey . The fabric shop had a smell of dressed cotton . I liked visting this shop because the print designs were varied and lovely . Iknew my mother was going to buy a yard of material to make me a new dress. I believe it was sixpense a yard. Incidentally my mother knew the price of everything.Even after I grew up and married she used to quiz –“ how much did you pay ? “ for such and such – I never knew. Even to this day with the price of everythinh prominently displayed – I dont know.

Harriet – Mums sister.

Mum said when they were young their father owned a pony and trap. Young Harriet could driven by one horse drive it and they used to go to Epping Forest in it. When Harriet got old ( sixty and beyond ) , she looked to me like a cartoon character – a Bessie Bunter , short , round and a very small nose , sparse hair and round spectacles and rosy complexio. When she was sixteen or thereabouts she got engaged to a man much older than herself – parents then would try to marry their daughters young . She went through some stange engagement ritual involving breaking a plate. The man had a salt beef bar. Anyway one day when he was taking her out on a date they passed a public house , by the way , pubs were owned by many Jewish people then. I believe they were owners nor mere licensees tied to a special brewery like nowadays. Musha’s sons married publican’s daughters thought to be a very good catch, they were well off and tended to bring their children up to have a certain refinement and be well educated. Anyway back to the Harriet and the pub .Harriet’s fiance said “ I’ll pop in here to see what the time is , I dont’t think she would have been allowed in at her age. She stood outside and waited and waited. When at last he did come out she could smell drink on his breath. He had obviously gone in for a quick one or two. He could not pass a pub. Subsequently she broke off the engagement. She married, unusually wearing a pink wedding dress. Isaac her husband contracted TB and was in a sanitarium 3 years before he died. Isaac came from Russia and taught himself to read and write English while he was in hospital. He use dto write saying they are all dying here . I won’t come out. I never met him. His children were , Daniel , Siddy, Maxie and Lilly. Maxie and Siddy I knew slightly because they used to visit us and write to us when they were on leave from the Army.

Mum said Harriet was very thrifty and if she use dto invite friends around she would give them bloaters ( dried herings ) and onions to eat, the chepest food available at that time – her own family she used to feed kiska. When Siddy was studying she was known to turn the gaslight down to save money. She had very poor eyesight anyway. She was not poor , she had a draper’s shop

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