Chapter 1 - Roots
From ChapmanCentral
- This is from the "magnum opus", Dad's memoir of his life up to middle age.
Not much is known about Dad, Robert Alfred Chapman, mainly because he was from the 'wrong' generation. His Mother probably owned a baker's shop (later called Spencer's), in Greyhound Road, W6. During his bachelor days he played his violin, accompanied by Miss Emily Stokes, the owner of the ground floor, number 446 Fulham Palace Road, Fulham SW6 where we were later to live, probably his bachelor 'digs'. His violin playing must have been of a fairly high standard (even allowing for the enthusiasm of his offspring) because he was employed on a part time basis to play at the Lyric. I have never been certain to which theatre this referred but I assume it must be the Lyric, Hammersmith.
He was a painter and decorator and worked for such firms as Debenhams and Holland, Hannen and Cubitt. This latter firm referred to him as a Foreman/Director. This may have simply been a device for holding down wages in exchange for some promise of a share in the profits. He was sent to do a job in Germany in 1929 and, in a very short space of time, developed a great liking for many of the things to which visitors were, at that time, exposed. He taught us the German numbers from 1 to 2O and spoke warmly of the beer gardens and the like. Later, when Hitler began to make very loud warlike noises, Dad was as critical as the rest of the populace and saddened at the way that things had developed between our two nations.
I still have his Passport which is endorsed to the effect that evidence would be required of identity if further use was to be made of it. I think that the problem arose because Dad had never had a copy of his Birth Certificate and therefore had no evidence regarding his date of birth.
We had a problem over this when he died and, even with the help of Somerset House, compromised on the likely year. We knew his birthday and this gave 2O August 1877 as his date of birth. We never knew or saw any of Dad's relations and I’m reasonably certain that there were none traceable.
Mum, Frances May Stait, was one of ten children born to a couple who lived in Chaxhill, near Westbury-on-Severn, Gloucestershire and had both worked in service and on farms. Two of the ten died, one at birth and one at an early age. The norm in those days was, on marriage, for children to stay nearby, concentrating the family in and around the village etc. Mum's family seem to have been an exception.
Molly and her husband went to live in Scotland, Reg and his wife Nance, to live in Jersey, Channel Isles, Ada and George settled in Birmingham, Sister Dolly and Bill lived on the other side of the City of Gloucester. Billy married a local girl, Gladys, and they lived at Rodley, a mile or so away in a house that Billy had built for them. A fair achievement for a farm worker! The two youngest, Nancy and Gilbert, stayed in the family home but some time later, Gilbert married a local girl, Rose and Nancy married Len. When the adjacent, semi-detached, cottage became available it was purchased by Len, to become the Gray's family home.
At one time, Mum's family lived in a village called Lassington. Her journey to and from school was a walk of three and a half miles and she received a book as a prize. The usual label inside the front cover bore the citation:
As you can well imagine, when one of us showed any reluctance to 'get a move on' Mum might not be able to resist the temptation to rake up her old record. In view of the cross country walk, her prize seems to have been well earned and I don't remember feeling too strongly about being goaded.
Mum went into service as soon as she left school and, as she was already living away from home, it was probably for an increase in income that she headed for London, where she met Dad. The only job that she mentioned in detail was 'down home' (as she always referred to Gloucestershire) when she worked for Lord and Lady Lionel Darrell.
The reason that I said that Dad was of the 'wrong' generation was that Mum was born on the 2O November 1893 and so Dad was therefore sixteen years older, nearly a generation! Dad claimed to have been skating on the Serpentine when Mum was born and since 1893 was one of the coldest winters on record this seems to have been quite likely.
Dad had a fund of silly stories like the one about the man who fell, trapping his nose in the tram lines. They had to push him to the terminus before they could get him out. This sort of story was probably started by one lobby or another when trams were first introduced. Another of Dad's stories concerned the day on which the fog was so thick that he had to wheel his bicycle. He bumped into what he thought was a lady and apologised profusely. When there was no reply, he approached closer, only to discover that he hat hit a telegraph pole. A third story, probably true, is that he was riding his 'ordinary' (penny farthing to most people) along Fulham Palace Road when he collided with the back of an open topped 'bus and was thrown over his handlebar and onto the top deck. The conductor asked, "Where are you going to mate?" Dad, being somewhat shaken but remembering where he had been headed said, "Hammersmith" and, before he had properly recovered, found that the conductor had punched him a penny ticket, for which he had to pay.
