Sunday January 22nd 1933
The last day in Leicester – as an inhabitant at least. Barry and I woke up early and went off on one of our old walks – via Birstall, to Wanlip and the Hope and anchor; back by the canal, Thurmaston, Birstall, Leicester. We were both in a silly mood and made fun by greeting everyone we met and once asked the way to Birstall Lighthouse, an enquiry which roused contempt but made us laugh. Barry had some chocolate and I some zubes. Occasionally as we walked we shouted or howled like wolves – inspired by Dracula.
(Why were we so ‘richly silly’? Was it because we both felt this was the last of our many walks in the country? Heard of Barry many years later - he became head of several important Marks and Spencer stores, including Manchester. Once long afterwards, I met the manager of M and S in Chelmsford. I told him I had been in digs with Barry once and remembered him as a wild irresponsible youth. “I suppose he became a quiet sedate business man” I asked. The manager smiled “Well, not exactly” he said. So perhaps Barry had remained an unusual person as he grew older.)
After dinner I packed: necessities in my suitcase and rolled general kit in the blankets, this was a huge package. Put on my plus fours for the first time and felt very smart, a hell of a fellow! A hasty tea and goodbye to the Woods. I left the house and looked back. There they stood in the doorway – like a posed photograph, Mr. And Mrs. Wood at the back, Bim, Bunty, Brian and little Pat at the front. I waved once, the door of number four closed and I turned the corner into the Loughborough Road.
Tram to the Clock Tower and then walked to the LMS station along Gallowtree Gate, passing Thorogoods shop without regret. At the station I left instructions for delivery of my general kit. At 5.40 p.m. my train slowly pulled out of Leicester. I came here from Wolfhampcote when I was 13; now I am 19.
Happy memories. Days of cold fog, starlight nights and quiet evenings. Shady lanes and whirring wheels, poetry, songs and lovely music. Peaceful twilights; days when the sun blazed – green fields and cool water. Camping – the smell of wood smoke and damp earth and the darkness beyond the red glow of the camp fire. Laughter, friendship, love and dreams, Six good years!
Two hours to wait at Nottingham; a cup of railway tea and a sandwich in the refreshment room. Did some shorthand. 8.30 out to Lincoln, arrived at 9.45 and walked to Carholme Road. Cold and wintry. A surprise for the family when they opened the door and saw me there with my suitcase! Welcome home! Slept downstairs. (There was no telephone at either end – a home instrument was rare in those days, so it was not possible to inform my family that I was coming home.)
Footnote. I met the harsh, sarcastic yet somehow human and likeable Mr. Lanning one more time. It was a year or two later and I was an industrial student with Paripan, in Surrey. Being home in Lincoln for a few days holiday, I called in at the Thorogood shop near the Stonebow and was surprised to see Mr. Lanning there. He told me that he had been transferred to Lincoln to smarten things up! I recognised only one member of staff from my time – Green – and enquired about the others, both here and in Leicester. Each time the answer was ‘Sacked’ or ‘I had to get rid of him!’ always with a wolf like smile. I said goodbye and turned to leave but as I reached the door, he called me back. ‘Dawson! You met my wife in Leicester, didn't you?’ She was a fluffy woman who came to the shop a couple of times. ‘Yes’, I said ‘I remember her’. Again the wolfish smile. ‘No good. Divorced her!’. Lanning was an absolute barstard. Why did I like him?
(Why were we so ‘richly silly’? Was it because we both felt this was the last of our many walks in the country? Heard of Barry many years later - he became head of several important Marks and Spencer stores, including Manchester. Once long afterwards, I met the manager of M and S in Chelmsford. I told him I had been in digs with Barry once and remembered him as a wild irresponsible youth. “I suppose he became a quiet sedate business man” I asked. The manager smiled “Well, not exactly” he said. So perhaps Barry had remained an unusual person as he grew older.)
After dinner I packed: necessities in my suitcase and rolled general kit in the blankets, this was a huge package. Put on my plus fours for the first time and felt very smart, a hell of a fellow! A hasty tea and goodbye to the Woods. I left the house and looked back. There they stood in the doorway – like a posed photograph, Mr. And Mrs. Wood at the back, Bim, Bunty, Brian and little Pat at the front. I waved once, the door of number four closed and I turned the corner into the Loughborough Road.
Tram to the Clock Tower and then walked to the LMS station along Gallowtree Gate, passing Thorogoods shop without regret. At the station I left instructions for delivery of my general kit. At 5.40 p.m. my train slowly pulled out of Leicester. I came here from Wolfhampcote when I was 13; now I am 19.
Happy memories. Days of cold fog, starlight nights and quiet evenings. Shady lanes and whirring wheels, poetry, songs and lovely music. Peaceful twilights; days when the sun blazed – green fields and cool water. Camping – the smell of wood smoke and damp earth and the darkness beyond the red glow of the camp fire. Laughter, friendship, love and dreams, Six good years!
Two hours to wait at Nottingham; a cup of railway tea and a sandwich in the refreshment room. Did some shorthand. 8.30 out to Lincoln, arrived at 9.45 and walked to Carholme Road. Cold and wintry. A surprise for the family when they opened the door and saw me there with my suitcase! Welcome home! Slept downstairs. (There was no telephone at either end – a home instrument was rare in those days, so it was not possible to inform my family that I was coming home.)
Footnote. I met the harsh, sarcastic yet somehow human and likeable Mr. Lanning one more time. It was a year or two later and I was an industrial student with Paripan, in Surrey. Being home in Lincoln for a few days holiday, I called in at the Thorogood shop near the Stonebow and was surprised to see Mr. Lanning there. He told me that he had been transferred to Lincoln to smarten things up! I recognised only one member of staff from my time – Green – and enquired about the others, both here and in Leicester. Each time the answer was ‘Sacked’ or ‘I had to get rid of him!’ always with a wolf like smile. I said goodbye and turned to leave but as I reached the door, he called me back. ‘Dawson! You met my wife in Leicester, didn't you?’ She was a fluffy woman who came to the shop a couple of times. ‘Yes’, I said ‘I remember her’. Again the wolfish smile. ‘No good. Divorced her!’. Lanning was an absolute barstard. Why did I like him?
posted by Paul Wilson at 7:08 pm
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