Chapter 10 - Wedded Bliss

From ChapmanCentral

This is from the "magnum opus", Dad's memoir of his life up to middle age.

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I cannot simply say: "we got married", as a casual statement in the middle of a chapter about work, or whatever, and it seems to me that the best way of covering this essential part of my life is to take it out of sequence.

I first met Julia Elizabeth André when she was 14 years of age and thought merely that she was a pretty young girl. I later went to a function held by the Socialist Sunday School, having offered to assist with their fund raising by taking portrait photographs, profits to go to them. The prime mover of this venture was Bert Cavalier's Sister, Ivy Tribe, who ran the Sunday School. Julie was 18 by then and I spent much more time 'chatting her up' than taking her photograph. The outcome was that we dated and began to meet regularly.

The motor cycle helped enormously because Julie's family were not mobile. For example, one of the first things that we did was to go out for a cup of coffee one Sunday morning. I decided to go to Hindhead. Now a drive of 45 miles each way may be regarded as reasonable today but was thought to be utter madness for a cup of coffee in the 1950s when motorways were a dream of the future and such a journey might take one and a half hours by car, although a time of 45 minutes would be more likely by motor cycle and riders would think nothing of it. Being mobile was therefore a new experience for Julie and I probably owe my success to the motor cycle.

After our first date, Julie's Mum said to her: "You're not really going out with that old man are you?" After our second date we arrived home very late and Julie advised me to leave her at the entrance to the block of flats where they lived and to keep well out of sight. Mrs André didn't sound too fearsome so the following morning (Sunday) I took her a box of chocolates and was almost forgiven on the spot. Mr André chatted interminably about electronics and it rapidly became obvious that he didn't really understand what he was talking about but it would take far too long to explain where he was wrong. I decided that he wouldn't understand anyway.

We decided to get married and it is worth noting that we made a deliberate decision to get married in a Register Office because we felt that this was less likely to lead to any disagreement. Although neither of us could be described as 'practicing', not being regular churchgoers or worshippers, Julie was a Roman Catholic and I was an Anglican Catholic. We have never had a religious argument and have never had any difficulty about worship in any church or chapel of any denomination. The inter-marital strife caused so often because couples are of different denominations is a great pity and, I think, could largely be avoided if greater tolerance was practiced by religious leaders. It hardly seems Christian to give support to the sectarian differences.

Jimmy was my Best Man and took me to Fulham Town Hall in his car. Her mother hired a Rolls for Julie and the two witnesses were Beryl McCarthy, a friend of Julie's since childhood and Jimmy. The Registrar was Kathleen Mary Busby who had signed both our Birth Certificates. When it came to the time to pay the fee, I didn't have the money ready and was still rummaging in my pockets when Jimmy said: "Have this on me." and paid the 7/6d (37 1/2p).

The photographer was Ted Hunt, a fellow HP employee who made the most unusual suggestion (for 1958) that he would take colour photographs on a 35 mm camera while taking the more usual shots on his plate camera. Ted was so pleased with the results that he gave us the colour slides as a wedding gift. We held the Reception at Empress Restaurant, our favourite Chinese haunt. The Proprietor closed the establishment for the afternoon and he assured us that he would serve: "Spling chlicken, no flied lice."

When we left the Town Hall, Bert Cavalier offered us a lift. Some people felt that having a lift to the Reception in an ancient Austin Ruby was not the right thing to do. We knew that accepting the lift would give the Cavaliers some pleasure and we certainly enjoyed being driven in a veteran car. The children of friends were not invited and we limited the list of guests so that we could enjoy a formal meal and to limit the cost which I agreed to share with Mr André. The list of our guests was:

Grandad André and Sally

Grandad Stainer and Aunty Lil

Mr and Mrs André

Mum

Jimmy and Barbara (+ Gillian & Graham)

Marjorie and Frank (+ Russell & Justin)

Rene and Chris (+ Nichola & Roland)

Uncle Reub

Uncle Jim and Aunty Flo

Uncle Bill and Aunty Helen (+ Raymond & Christine)

Mr and Mrs Cavalier

Ernie and Edna Collis

Ron and Joy Pottinger

Elsie Mc Garry (Geoff was abroad)

Miss K Loring

Tommy Martin

Beryl McCarthy

Aunty Ada

Eric Abbott sent a telegram saying: "Have heard about your wedding from the lads at the office. Hope this won't make any difference to us. Love Joan." This misfired because he gave the address of the wrong restaurant.

Tommy brought his tape recorder (again unusual in 1958) and recorded the main speeches. I know that Jimmy will not be offended if I say that the speech made by Grandad André was the gem of the collection. I have listened to it on many occasions. Miss Loring, Headmistress of Julie's primary school who has remained close ever since her involvement in Julie's education led to her success in passing to Godolphin and Lattymer School, started her speech with: "Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking, I only do it every day....." However, it turned out to be quite a good speech.

With the exception of her paternal grandmother, Julie's grandparents were still alive. Grandad André had remarried and he and Sally were a lovely old couple whose hospitality could always be guaranteed. He was one of the most intelligent, and indeed, intellectual men that it has been my privilege to meet.

Grandad had worked in the London Docks and had been promoted to foreman status, probably a ganger. After being instrumental in forming the Independent Labour Party and encouraging the men to form a 'closed shop' he was sacked. This meant that he walked from Fulham over to the Docks every day and stood in line, hoping for casual work, he would then be turned down as a trouble maker and have no work. He found this to be a waste of time, not to mention boot leather, and gave up. He was successful in getting a job as a Janitor in Fulham Public Library. This was beneficial in a number of ways. Firstly, it was a far more suitable job for a man of his abilities and nature. Secondly, whenever old books were thrown out, Grandad had a free choice. This meant that he had a first class private library. Julie's Grandmother taught her to read and access to good books in quantity was invaluable. Thirdly, one of his jobs was to arrange any display of paintings etc that were to be exhibited in the Library. One artist, Helen Cochrane, was so impressed with his efforts that she offered him the pick of her works that had been on show. The painting he chose was a water colour of Clematis Jackmanii which then passed to us on Grandad's death.

One endearing memory of Grandad came about when he said that he supposed I could remember considerable changes in Fulham. I, of course, told him of my experiences when we lived in Fulham Palace Road. Grandad then proceeded to say how, when he was a lad, there was no Fulham Palace Road, as such, this merely being a stage coach route from Hammersmith to Putney. Travellers along the route had an unobstructed view of the Bishop's Palace in Bishop's Park and the houses had yet to be built. I thought, at first, that this might be slightly exaggerated and was even more surprised when he said that the original Roman drainage ditch was still in existence and in regular use during his youth.

Following Grandad's death, his second wife, Sally, and his other son, Reuben, were moved into a Council flat. Reub had been classed as schizophrenic for some years as a result of shell shock to which the Army had been very reluctant to admit, in spite of the most stringent efforts on his behalf by Grandad. Neither Sally nor Uncle Reub lived for long after Grandad died.

Julie's maternal Grandfather, Grandad Stainer, had been separated from his wife for some years and he had taken lodgings with Mrs Jennings (Aunty Lil). Nannie Stainer lived in an old peoples home on Wimbledon Common and although Grandad Stainer's attitude is perfectly understandable, bearing in mind Nannie's penchant for a glass of stout and some male company to enjoy it with, I don't think that he can be entirely blameless when one considers the fact that they were married and had had children. When Grandad Stainer was serving in the Army in World War I, Nannie could not keep her daughter, Julie's mother, who was fostered out to a couple who lived in Harrow. After the war they decided to get her back but she regarded the Harrow couple as her own parents. It may well be that the deep understanding of the traumatic feelings that people in circumstances such as these have, grew from this early experience. Whether that is so or not, Julie's mother certainly had what is called a 'big heart' and many of the people of Fulham have cause to be very grateful for the help that she gave unstintingly to anyone in need.

I quickly adopted the habit of calling Julie's parents 'MIL' (Mother in Law) and Joe. I have been known to describe Joe in very uncomplimentary terms but, not to speak ill of the dead, perhaps I can sum him up by giving examples of his behaviour. After losing his job at St Luke's Hospital as a stoker (which is more realistically understood to mean labourer) owing to persistent absence which, according to medical opinion, could not be blamed on illness, he got a job with the Electricity Board. His job was to clean cookers taken in part exchange. He immediately declared himself to be an Electrician. It would have been impossible for me not to have been offended by this any more than I could avoid being offended when he described himself as a Mill-wright, having once been employed in the machine shop of a large company who, owing to the labour shortage during World War II, tried him at various jobs before giving him the sack. To be fair, he may never have had it explained to him how wrong it is to make dishonest claims of a professional nature but regarded these just as harmless boasts. Joe once bought an Auto-cycle, the pre-war moped. When he rode it the speed frightened him and he immediately sold it. When we first met he proudly said: "I used to have a motor bike." and, as if to either gain credence or to convince himself, he added: "Didn't I girl?" 'MIL' raised her eyes which meant: "When I say 'Yes' I really mean 'No'."

Joe tried to copy his father's political awareness but this was not within his capabilities and he could only manage to remember one or two words and phrases out of context. For example, he would refer to anybody who he suspected of sympathising with the Conservative Party, for instance, any comedian impersonating Ted Heath, as a 'Tory Stooge'. To say that this attitude did nothing to improve the party atmosphere at Christmas is no exaggeration.

Joe's death was accelerated by the fact that he could not understand the need to follow the advice of his doctor precisely and failed to take some essential tablets.

'MIL' could not have been more different. She was an angel to neighbours, friends and family. In her young days she was employed as a shirt finisher in a laundry. She took a great deal of pleasure in exercising her old craft but her kindness went much further than that. When Julie was at home in St Albans, waiting for the children to come home from school, 'MIL' would arrive, having taken public transport out from Fulham, and say: "I've just popped out to do some ironing." It then became a game of bluff, how to get 'MIL' home without her realising what was going on. On some occasions it was necessary to just give her a lift to the station. On many occasions I managed to give her a lift home by distracting her attention or saying that we were going by a different route. On such occasions 'MIL' was genuinely irritated that I had gone to extra trouble but, of course, was pleased to get home so easily.

Any visit by 'MIL' was always a pleasure and I suspect that Joe was suitably briefed before any visit when he came with her. One day Joe telephoned to say that 'MIL' was going into Charing Cross Hospital. Julie and I went to see her and she was very ill. She had a swollen abdomen and cancer had been diagnosed. An operation was performed and Joe was too distressed to even attempt to discuss it with the Hospital Staff. The Surgeon agreed to talk to us about the case because he would regard us as the next of kin, in the absence of a husband who could cope. He told us that the growth had infiltrated virtually all 'MIL's' organs and it was not possible to separate one organ from another. He had therefore simply stitched her up. It was not a matter of quantity of life, which might only be a matter of two weeks, but rather the quality of life. I said that if he was suggesting that we should take her to our house, we would do so as soon as this was possible. The possibility was discussed of providing an ambulance and the Surgeon said that he could easily arrange this but the alternative, of taking 'MIL' home by car, would look more natural. Of course she was aware that she had had an operation and, as we were not intending to tell her that she was incurable, she might be suspicious if she was taken home in an ambulance. In normal circumstances the wound would not be likely to burst and we could explain that she was coming home with us for convalescence. The school holidays had just begun and Julie and I decided to tell our son, Guy and our daughter, Laura, but not to tell our youngest, Naomi. The only snag was that Julie was working but said that this did not present a problem and immediately gave her employer notice that she was leaving at the end of the week. The girls took 'MIL's' breakfast in every morning and said: "You do look well this morning, Nana." She normally replied that she felt well. I have always believed in the principle of 'mind over matter' but even I was amazed at the rate of progress which 'MIL' made. When she was examined during the following February, the mammoth tumour had almost disappeared. The oncology and/or chemotherapy no doubt played a significant role but, bearing in mind the expert opinion that 'MIL' might have a mere two weeks to live but was now looking quite strong seven months later, leads me to suggest that her mental attitude was all important. The cancer did not let up and it became a continuous battle over a period of nearly four years, during which 'MIL' bravely fought on. Eventually we took her into Charing Cross Hospital for the last time where it proved too much for her when septicaemia attacked her blood and she quietly passed away.

There were two occasions when visits to the hospital were unusual. On the first of these, we saw Tommy Cooper in the lift, having seen him on one earlier visit. On the way home after that previous visit I said that I wished that we had spoken to him, just to thank him for the pleasure that he had given us. The second time that we saw him I touched him on the shoulder and, when he turned, I said that I wanted to wish him a speedy recovery and thank him for all the pleasure that he had given our family over the years. He seemed quite touched and, turning to his wife, said: "Did you hear that dear? How very kind." When he died soon afterwards I felt that I could not have forgiven myself if I had not taken that opportunity to say 'Thank you'.

The other occasion when a visit was particularly memorable was on 'MIL's' last Christmas. She was too ill for us to take her home and we decided to take our Christmas dinner (strictly lunch) to the hospital with us. We met Tommy Martin there and so a party of seven of us gathered round 'MIL's' bed. We took turkey sandwiches and champagne and there was no shortage of takers for the 'bubbly'. Two of the consultants visited, each spending a significant amount of time at each bed. The Bishop of Kensington also visited and his Chaplain asked each patient if they would like the Bishop to say a prayer with them. 'MIL' said that she would and the Bishop knelt and prayed with her and then counselled her. He was with her for several minutes and seemed in no hurry to get away from the family. The nurses were in various states of inebriation with some exceptions. One male nurse had rubber legs and we could not understand how he managed to steer through the door. Two other nurses (both female) were absolutely stone cold sober. They were responsible for the issue of drugs. The meticulous care which they both checked and double checked each patient's dose had to be seen to be believed. I could not decide whether they took the dedication prize or whether it went to the nurse in the Santa Claus outfit. She said that she wore it for her nephew but I said that she wore it because she had terrific legs, all on show in black tights under a pelmet sized mini-skirt. The rest of her was no impersonation of a fat man either.

At about tea time we left 'MIL' and her fellow sufferers to have a peaceful evening while we went home to try and salvage something from the rest of the day. We all agreed that it had been a most rewarding experience.