Chapter Two - "Holidays Away"
Chapter Two of "Open to Possibilities: The Life of a Young English Nurse"
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Trish eyed the situation in front of her with confusion, then dismay as the realization sank in. If she wanted any supper, she was going to have to use the spoon Aunty Kathleen had placed in front of her and eat directly out of the big bowl in the center of the table, as her cousins were doing. And from the looks of things, she had better do it quickly if there was to be any supper left! Trish got up on her knees in her chair so she could reach to the center of the table, picked up her spoon, and took her supper with her cousins. This was NOT how suppertime worked at HER house.
She was at the table with her two cousins David and John, at her Aunty Kathleen’s flat. It was her first “holiday away”, and she was staying for a week with her relatives. She knew she wasn’t far from home. She had walked here with Aunty Kathleen, carrying her overnight bag. They had turned onto the shopping street that Trish had visited with her mum many times. Aunty Kathleen stopped in front of a shop, then entered a door to the side of the shop and climbed the stairs to a flat above. The flat was where Aunty Kathleen and Uncle Ronnie lived with their adopted sons, David and John. Uncle Ronnie worked away during the week, he only came home on weekends.
It was June 1947 and Trish was five years old. She knew that when she returned home from her holiday, she would be a big sister. Florence and Harold were expecting their second child, Richard. Becoming a big sister would be another change for Trish, she had been an only child for five years. Mostly, she would have little to do with the new baby, though she noticed with annoyance that he commanded a lot of her mother’s attention.
Not long after her little brother Richard arrived, Trish’s dad rented a garden allotment near to their home. Although the war was over, it was hard to tell in day-to-day life. People still had little money, and there wasn’t yet much to buy, anyway. Having a vegetable garden would ensure the growing family had nutritious food. Once Harold had the garden established, he could grow vegetables 11 months of the year.
During the rest of her summer break, Trish often accompanied her dad to the allotment and helped him with the garden. Trish had two major chores related to the garden: collecting manure to use as fertilizer, and weeding. It was still common to see horses pulling carts in the streets. Years earlier the army commandeered most motorized vehicles years for the war, their previous owners either hadn’t had the money to replace them, or perhaps they had become accustomed to the pace of the more basic transportation for their needs. The milk man, the bread man, the man who delivered coal, they all still used a horse and cart. Parents sent the children out into the street after such deliveries with a shovel and a bucket to collect any manure the horses may have left behind. They used the manure to fertilize garden allotments, and the children took the responsibility of collecting it seriously. A sense of competition motivated the neighbourhood children to do their best to collect the most for their dads. Through the week, Trish loaded manure into the wheelbarrow in the back garden. On the weekend when Harold was off work, he would push the wheelbarrow of manure to the allotment and dig it into the soil. Trish would plod along behind him in her gumboots, ready to help pull weeds. She enjoyed learning about the plants, pulling the weeds, and helping pick the ripe vegetables. When the new school year began, Trish still accompanied her dad on the occasional weekend to the allotment to help with the garden.
The next summer Trish was six years old, and her parents were expecting another baby, her youngest brother Philip. Trish again had a “holiday away”, this time to London to spend what would be the first of many summers with her Aunty Mona. Her first time travelling to London was by train. Her dad bought a ticket for her on the night train, as fares were less expensive at night. She was told it was going to be a long ride. Even at night, trains carrying goods had priority and passenger trains sat in sidings, waiting for goods trains to pass by. Sometimes it felt as though they waited for hours. On that first solo train trip, six-year-old Trish boarded the train under the care of the night guard. She had a seat in a carriage that had tables, and the guard put her travel bag under her seat. Around her, old men played card games. They noticed her watching them and invited her to join in. Throughout the long ride, the night guard looked in on her and brought her bottles of pop. By the time the train arrived in London, Trish was quite competent in both cribbage and dominoes.
At Aunt Marion and Uncle George’s home, Trish had a bedroom to herself, it felt special. Her Aunty Mona now used her second name, Marion, in favour of her first name, Mona. Her new in-laws thought "Marion" sounded more formal than "Mona". Trish tried to use the unfamiliar name, but it was difficult to remember in the moment. Trish had only met Aunty Marion’s husband, George, a few times, but she liked him. He was playful - ‘a card’, as she had heard her mom say. Uncle George played games with her, was full of jokes, and could make the most hilarious faces. Her uncle worked as a taxi driver in London after the war and had exciting stories about the things he saw around the city.
Trish spent a happy summer in London. During the week, she went to work with Aunt Marion. She spent the workday sitting quietly beside her Auntie’s desk, engrossed in a book. She enjoyed going for lunch with her Aunty, then catching the train back home after work. On future trips, as she got older, she explored the city by herself during the day. She met her aunt for lunch, and again to catch the train home together, but the rest of the day was hers to wander and see the sights.
Through the years, Trish typically took the train for her summer visits to London, but on one occasion, her Uncle Charlie was also making the trip with his wife Nellie, and their infant daughter, Linda. Trish travelled with them, riding on the pillion of Uncle Charlie’s motorcycle while her Aunt Nellie and the baby rode in the sidecar. Uncle Charlie could not bring his beloved motorcycle home from Belgium when the war had ended, but as soon as he arrived back home, his first act had been to buy a new motorbike. Trish appreciated the ride, but concluded it was not a very comfortable way to travel long distances, particularly as a passenger. It was certainly memorable, though.
One summer while she was still quite young, she went to stay with her Aunty Kathleen again. Aunty Kathleen and Uncle Ronnie had moved out of Liverpool, and now lived near the mine where Uncle Ronnie worked in Tyldesley. They lived in a very basic worker’s cottage in Nook Colliery. It was so near the mine Trish could see the mine’s workings at the end of the lane when she stepped out the front door. The dwelling was basic. There was no toilet indoors, only an outhouse behind the cottage. Aunty Kathleen's family had grown since Trish last stayed, besides John, and David, her uncle and aunt had adopted two more children, twin girls, Kay and Julie. The girls were just toddlers, and into everything, but Trish was more concerned about her oldest cousin, John. He told her very convincing stories about the snakes that were waiting in the grass beside the trail to the outhouse. He said they were waiting for her little legs to walk past in the dark. Trish was pretty sure he was bluffing, but firmly resolved to avoid the outhouse after dark, just in case.
Back home in Liverpool, Trish’s mum had a curiosity about the world around her and shared that with her growing children. There was always a variety of animals in the house, most often of the crawling or slithering kind, that one of the boys found in some sort of distress in the garden. Florence had a reputation in the neighbourhood of being able to help ailing creatures. Occasionally there would be a knock on the door, and a plea for her to help with an ailing pet, or to take on a creature in distress. Trish observed this with interest, though she still wasn’t keen on sharing a living space with even the occasional garter snake. Snakes still made her hairs stand on end.
The family also had a dog, a rather large dog named Peter. Peter was a bull mastiff and German shepherd cross, with a massive head. At a first glance, he could look quite intimidating. Other dogs would strain at their leashes to cross the street and avoid him when they saw him, but Peter was a very smart and good-natured dog.
Day to day, keeping Peter inside the fenced front garden was a priority, as he would follow Trish to school, or otherwise create disturbances in the neighbourhood. He was fond of Trish, and could be quite protective of her, although he protected the whole family. On one occasion, Florence nipped out to the chemist to run an errand. She took the two boys, who were still small and in the pram, and Peter. She left the three of them outside the shop while she went inside, as was customary to do. The trouble was, she left the shop and went straight home, forgetting she had taken them to the shop with her. When Florence returned in a panic to collect the children and the dog, she was surprised to find a man flat on his back, with Peter’s massive bulk sitting squarely on top of him. Florence ordered Peter “off”, and profusely apologized to the man, who, though rattled, said:
“Don’t be mad, the dog is just doing his job!”
As Florence helped the stranger to his feet, he told her one of the boys threw a toy out of the pram as he walked past, so he bent down to pick it up for them. That’s when Peter pushed the man to the ground, sat on him, then patiently waited for Florence to return.
Adding to the liveliness of the home, Harold had an aviary in the backyard where he raised budgies. He diligently cared for the birds and spent a lot of time training them to talk. Birds that didn’t have good colour, or were not very talkative, he gave away to other families in the neighbourhood, who were delighted with them regardless of their plumage or vocabulary.
The budgie who showed the most personality moved into the house and became part of the family. Billy, the most memorable one, was clever and funny. His comments often seemed to correspond with the activity going on at the time. He regularly played with a toy on the edge of a table until the toy fell on the floor.
“What are you doing, doing, doing?” he asked mournfully, head cocked to one side, staring down at the fallen toy until someone picked it up and placed it back on the table for him.
“Polly put the kettle on, here comes Charlie.” was another favourite phrase from Billy. He made the declaration whenever he heard the distinctive sound of Uncle Charlie’s motorcycle. He had learned the phrase “Polly wants a cracker” early on, and he heard Florence say, “Here comes Charlie, I’ll put the kettle on,” so many times he combined the two phrases and the result sounded rather posh and in charge.
Billy also had a habit of crash-landing onto Harold’s balding head, using the rims of his glasses to break his slide.
“Good morning!” he would announce, staring at Harold square in the eyeball.
If he was feeling particularly feisty, he would start grooming Harold’s eyebrows, to the amusement of Trish and her brothers.
While the children were young, Florence took them on regular trips to the library, keeping the family well supplied with reading materials. Florence was an avid reader and passed that passion on to Trish. Besides reading, Florence kept the children's imaginations active with crafts. There was always a box of scrap cardboard, fabric, and other odds and ends in the house. Florence brought it out on rainy days for the children to create whatever their imaginations could conjure.
One day Harold brought home a train set. He had bought it off the widow of one of his former colleagues at work to help her out after the death of her husband. Harold set the train track up on a large piece of plywood in the parlour. On weekends, Trish’s grandfather took the children to town to the hobby shop. He gave them a six-pence to add to their existing six-pence pocket money, so they had enough to buy additional track or other odds and ends to expand their rail empire. Florence made villages along the track, complete with stations, houses, and other buildings from the cardboard and odds and ends she saved from the household. The train set became a family project for several years until Trish had moved out of the house, and the boys grew too old to play with it.
As Richard and Philip grew older, the whole family would go to the garden allotment with Harold and Trish on weekends. They would all don gumboots, and the boys and Florence would join the procession behind Harold, who pushed the wheelbarrow full of horse manure. As Trish got older, she became more embarrassed about trudging through her neighbourhood in the gumboots with the wheelbarrow of manure, but once they arrived at the garden, she enjoyed the work there. She immersed herself in weeding the rows of plants, then carefully watering them. When the time was right, she enjoyed helping her dad harvest the vegetables. Her brothers were too small to help. They would race around like little hooligans, playing games with other children who were also there with their families. Some weekends, Florence packed sandwiches, a bottle or two of lemonade, and a packet of tea leaves, and the family would spend the day at the garden. There was a shed at the allotment, where Harold stored gardening tools, and inside there was a bench with a storage box underneath. In the storage box there were rainy day books and toys for the boys, and a Primus stove and a kettle for making tea. At the end of the day, the family would file home again, with a freshly washed wheelbarrow, often filled with produce they had picked. Looking back, Trish reflects that the allotment was probably the reason the family remained healthy during the years after the war, when others still struggled.
As Trish got older, there were more after-school commitments to keep her busy. She had regular piano lessons from the time she was seven years old. She joined the Girl Guides, and later the Land Rangers. Those groups had activities ranging from regular meetings to field trips, and even annual camping trips.
She also became a cadet with the St. John’s Ambulance Brigade, where she learned first aid skills from a paramedic who was senior in the brigade. Trish recalls learning about bandaging wounds, and the techniques being quite complex. Each one had to be practiced until it was perfect.
Throughout the year, Trish went on “weekends away” to stay with Cousin Jessie, even during the school year. Jessie was Florence’s cousin, and she lived in Liverpool. Once Trish was seven, she could travel to Cousin Jessie’s on her own. To get there, she walked up to Edge Lane Drive to ride the tram. She asked the conductor to put her off at Penny Lane, then she walked back a few streets to No. 14 Truro Road.
Staying with Cousin Jessie was always interesting; she had some tendencies that, to a seven-year-old, were quite exciting. For example, Cousin Jessie would regularly turn on the gas stove then go look for the lighter. By the time she finally found it, there was already a large amount of gas in the air. It was not uncommon for her to be missing her eyebrows and the front of her hair!
It was also at Cousin Jessie’s that Trish learned about chamber pots. That orientation was borne from necessity, the bedroom where Trish stayed with Cousin Jessie was two floors up from the toilet.
Sometimes, Cousin Jessie took Trish along when she went to visit her sister Mable. Mable had the scruffiest parrot Trish had ever seen, and the bird swore mightily. Cousin Jessie told Trish that their father was a master mariner. From his travels he brought home a marmoset monkey for Jessie and a parrot for Mable. Unfortunately, Cousin Jessie’s monkey died before Trish was old enough to visit, but the parrot was still going strong. He had been trained to swear by the sailors on the long voyage home, and he did it with gusto throughout his long life.
When school was in session, Trish did well as she progressed through the elementary school years. She enjoyed the course work, mostly, and she joined in the compulsory school activities like speech choir, and theatre productions.
When the time came to sit the “Eleven-Plus” exams at school, the competitive examinations all students wrote at age eleven to determine their future path for secondary schooling, Trish scored well and was eligible to carry on to grammar school. Grammar school was the academic pathway, and it was unusual for the youth from Trish’s neighbourhood to go that route, even when their test scores permitted it. It was more common for children to carry on to “technical” or “secondary modern” high schools to learn trades and other skills that would allow them to earn money more quickly and support their families. Girls learned to type and home economic related skills, and boys studied woodwork, metalwork, and mechanics. Trish was growing up in a working-class neighbourhood on the east side of Liverpool. Although Trish’s family was Anglican, many, if not most of the families in the neighbourhood were Catholic, with large families. The cost of school uniforms alone was a barrier to sending children to school any longer than was absolutely necessary, although the technical and secondary modern schools required quite basic uniforms, and many mothers could make the uniforms themselves. Another pressing factor that kept children from pursuing their education was the need for older youth to work to support their family as soon as they were able.
Even though it was uncommon, and Trish only knew one other girl who had attended a grammar school, she was keen to go. She knew her father would forbid it. He had traditional values, as did his mother before him. Harold’s mother, Mary, had worked as a housekeeper for a wealthy family, overseeing the rest of the serving staff in the house. She valued formality, decorum, and strict adherence to rules and tradition. Growing up in that context, Harold believed that everything a girl needed to know, her mother could teach her, as it all pertained to maintaining a house and a family.
Little did Trish know; her mother would strongly advocate for her to pursue a formal education. Florence herself had also been an academically strong student, but had to leave school at the earliest allowable age and work to help support her family. She felt strongly that her own daughter should be able to pursue the education she herself could not access. After much spirited discussion in the household, Trish was delighted to be registered at Childwall Valley High School for Girls, a grammar school about three miles from the house. She would start her studies there after her summer break, and she was excited!
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Author’s note:
We often see our parents through the lens of their roles in our lives— caregivers, disciplinarians, cheerleaders. Perhaps they are our role models or mentors, but who were they before they became these things to us?"
To better understand who my parents were before they were, well, my parents, I set about interviewing them about their lives before marriage and kids. I started with my mom.
Trish Lewis was 18 years old and desperate to escape a mind-numbing administrative job at a factory in Liverpool in the 1950’s. She made the impulsive decision to join a friend to interview for nurse’s aide training at Alder Hey Children’s Hospital. That decision changed the trajectory of her life and launched her into an interesting and rewarding career as a nurse.
Trish is my mom, and this is her story, as told to me in a series of interviews in 2024. The story is pieced together from Mom’s memory, photos, and documents. As we all know, memory is fallible. In the telling of this story, some names have been changed, either because they could not be recalled, or to protect the privacy of the person.The Journey is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
Wow! Your Mum's story is quite a social history for the post-war period in Britain. Fascinating. Kudos to both of you.
Loved Chapter 2, especially the rich details that bring the era to life.