Raff Cirillo's Diary's  

My Story From Raff's Diary's

My Early Memories

My earliest memories of life in Italy (1953 to 1957) were more about feeling rather than events. As a 3 year old the events I remember were a melange of microscopic pieces of life that my mind may possibly be filling in the gaps. My feelings, they are much more certain in my mind. When I lived in Italy I was aware that life was relaxed. We were poor, often playing in the streets with just a top to save us kids from the soaring southern Italian summers, and most of the time we had no trousers on. This was handy when you wanted to pee against the church wall opposite our house. The top was more like a skirt than a shirt, in fact it probably was. Our clothes were full of holes but then again so were all the other kids so it didn’t bother me or the other kids. There always seemed to be friends or family that walked past and offered you a piece of bread or some muscles or a bit of corn on the cob. People were so poor but seemed generous and kind, poor financially, but rich in spirit.  We would go down to the steps where we could see the sea; this was only about 200 yards down our road. There was always a sense of excitement as we walked down the stairs and under the bridge where we could see the boats bobbing up and down in the sea. The smell of rotting netting and rotten fish was ignored as we looked out at the boats and views across the harbour.

I Become Aware of Plans to Emigrate 

Early in the summer of 1957, all this relaxed way of life came to an abrupt end and disquiet beset the family. I heard conversations that had vibes of something big and bad. I was unaware that my dad had gone to England the year before. He was never around much and I didn’t miss him. There were lots of family around so one missing didn’t seem to matter that much. It was only a decade after the war had ended and Naples was left in ruins having suffered from sustained & unrelenting bombing, which is well documented in the book ‘Operation Avalanche’ by Des Hicky & Gus Smith (ISBN 0-07-028682-5). The Italian government did very little to facilitate the war damage recovery. Life in Southern Italy was becoming embittered and the people disillusioned. There was a massive exodus to escape the poverty. The lack of employment and the inevitable crime-wave that ensues when people become so desperate. My dad, through his friend had heard that in Britain there were jobs for everyone and the Italians were some of the first Europeans to make Britain their home. In Naples there was no work but in Britain there was no hesitation in the post war rebuilding programme. Britain embarked on a massive programme of building complete new towns. By the time we arrived in Britain in 1957, 15 new ‘Garden City’ towns were already on the drawing board. These new towns were to re-house some of the 1.4 million Londoners whose homes were destroyed during The Blitz.  Although I couldn’t understand what was going on even if I had been told we were emigrating, it would have meant nothing to me. I remember mum crying about leaving her family and my sisters crying, they were leaving their friends behind, Gina was leaving behind her boyfriend Giovanni, there was an accumulative sense of sadness. I was emotionally detached about the friends I left behind. The boys I played with in the streets seemed rough and played rough and I usually ended up worse, so I was not sorry to see the back of them. The family we were going to leave behind did leave me feeling with an unnerving sense of unease. The outpouring of emotion from the family added to my anxiety as it brought home that this was obviously a massive historic family event and a trip into the unfamiliar. With every member of family coming to say good bye my apprehension grew.

The Trip to England

Sunday 11th August 1957, the day we left Italy. We loaded all our worldly possessions, which wasn’t a lot on a carozza (A horse drawn cart) most of our possessions were put in what I can only describe as a big flat topped treasure chest box. It weighed a ton and we all helped load it onto the cart.  We then used it to sit on during the train journey. When we arrived at Naples central station from Torre Annunziata we had to load this massive box again onto the train. As we were waiting for the train to depart a man came passed the train on the platform with a kind of mini shop on wheels peddling his wears of drinks and souvenirs. The man shouted to my mum would you like to buy a souvenir. My mum explained that we were emigrating, she was crying as she spoke to the man. The man picked up a large framed picture of Jesus and said here take this you will need him. My mum clutched hold of the frame holding tightly to the frame as if the frame itself rather than Jesus was going to be our saviour. This open display of emotion was adding to my own anxiety. The train departed, I was already thinking this was a long Journey. We had been travelling for about 2 or 3 hours and it seemed a long time, I had never been on a journey of any description as far as I could remember. Lucky for me I wasn’t told the Journey would take between 36 to 40 hours. I was feeling so tired that I started crying, my mum told Bart and Anna to get off the box and sit on the floor of the train by the entrance door so that I could sleep on the box. I felt psychologically and emotionally drained, as a child a few days away from my fourth birthday, I was having great difficulty reconciling how this emotional torture was for the greater good of our family and exactly what better life was waiting for us in Britain.  No one had consulted us or given my brother or my sisters a clear and cogent explanations of why we were leaving Italy. The journey seem to last for ever I was so tired that despite the ridges of the box making it an uncomfortable bed I fell asleep. I would wake up occasionally and hear all these strangers round me and speaking a language that I didn’t recognise. It was almost certainly German as parts of the train were being shunted off to different countries. It was beginning to dawn on me that this trip into the unknown would involve people who talked a different language. I was also a bit concerned especially that I was becoming increasing aware that none of my family could effectively communicate with these strangers which compounded my anxiety. I fell asleep again and I don’t remember much of the rest of the Journey except the last bit of the ferry crossing, there was an air of excitement as people were saying we’ll be in England soon and I knew that meant we would be home soon, wherever that home was. I remember people rushing around as the ferry docked, the whole time I was dazed through emotion and tiredness. We got the train to London we looked out to see what this England looked like but it was dark and we could not see anything. We arrived in London and there was bright lights everywhere even though it was late. We had to take a short Journey by Trolley Bus. The air of excitement amongst the people on the bus and my brothers and sisters, enthused me sufficiently to wake up a bit. We passed an area of London that crowded and there were lights and fountains, people were smiling and laughing and my apprehension dropped a notch or two. I though England may not be such a bad place after all !

We arrive in St Albans - 32 Stanhope Road

We left Italy to come to a country of opportunity, as we started to arrive at our destination more scared than then excited. The worries and concerns of our parents filtered through the reassurance they gave us that everything would be fine. We had left a sunny warm Naples and said goodbye to our large family and close circle of friends on Sunday 11th August 1957 and arrived at a cold damp St Albans on the evening of Monday 12th August 1957. As the steam train pulled up at St Albans on that evening my first thoughts was that we had arrived at some ghost town, where were all the people who walk around and chatted to each other as they do in Naples? My second thoughts were that we were supposed to be coming to a country of golden opportunity and well advanced from the country we had left behind. So why were we not on an electric train and why was there gas lighting at the station?  We walked to a house round the corner from the station, namely 32 Stanhope Road. We had the attic flat. The house was divided into 3 flats with a 6 old pence electric meter. The flat was completely nondescript however the garden was immaculate. The first few days were like we had gone to hell. I had been robbed of my freedom to wander around. My days were spent sitting on the floor of the bathroom watching my mum scrub clothes in a bath on a scrubbing board. I asked mum if I could go to the bedroom as the strong smell of bleach was making me feel quite nauseous. My request was always refused, I sometimes wondered whether that refusal was borne out of a concern that I may just throw myself out of the 3rd floor window. I missed my brothers and sisters so much during the day as I had no one to speak to and mum was so busy scrubbing clothes, stopping only occasionally when her fingers started to bleed. Sometimes she would say things like “look at my hands I have to kill myself for you kids”, I sensed a feeling that she wished that she had never had us. Sometimes she would say feel my hands, they felt unlike skin, and more like the pavement outside. I felt sorry for the sad life she had during the day, but I felt my sadness surpassed hers.  I longed to go to school to get away from the boredom and frustration of life during the day. It was driving me to distraction with not a single toy to play with and my conversation with my mum was limited to basic command and instructions. I was so bored I kept trying to picture how long a year was as this was how long I had to wait before I could start School.

The evenings were completely different with mum being much more relaxed even though often there was not enough food to go round but we were all together as a family and I felt safe. Dad was much more enthused about life in England, he had arrived a year before us and had quite a social life which he now curbed to spend time being a father again. I never sensed this was a disappointing change of direction in his life. With my brothers and sisters around me and friends of my mum and dad around, it felt like we had rekindled the embers of our former life. I loved having the entire family round and when mums friends came round speaking a language I could understand it felt like I was in Italy again. I hated being out and not understanding anything that was being said. If someone spoke to me in English while I was out and about I would just scowl at them.

The weeks, and months, passed by with only a couple of punctuation in the routine boredom of daytime life at Stanhope Road. The first was when my mum bought me a coat, I had been so cold and I was excited at the prospect of getting a second hand duffle-coat. When my mum came home with the coat it was bright red and made me look like a young Father Christmas! I was beginning to forget any remaining dignity that I had, I tried hard to focus on the positive, at least now I would be warm. I should have known that in the days of great financial squeeze people did not throw out anything that was remotely valuable. Clearly no child wanted to be seen dead in a red duffle-coat. Everyone I ever saw in the street had grey duffle-coats and I was the source of many a joke, luckily it was so big that I could put the hood up and completely cover my head.

The next punctuation of the boredom at Stanhope Road occurred when Anna went to the corner fruit and Veg shop and came back with a kitten. Anna and I walked back to the shop to see if we could get some food for the cat. The Lady who owned the shop was called Mrs Sparshott, a short skinny lady who wore lots of makeup, maybe she was looking for another husband as her husband had died of a heart attack at a very early age. She had a son Clive Sparshott who was about 16 and looked a cocky sort, maybe he felt like he was now the man of the house after his dad had died. We came back home with a tin of tuna fish, this was supposed to be for dads tea but we thought we could get away with saying we had eaten some as we were hungry, the trouble is the kitten was ravenous and nearly ate half the tin. We made ourselves scarce when dad got home and we agreed it was best he didn’t know about the kitten so we hid it away.

After a year at Stanhope Road, the one year lease on the flat that my dad’s work (Pasta foods) had arranged came to an end. My dad, despite having a good social life during his year alone in England had managed to save a considerable amount of money so that we could buy a fairly run down 5 bedroom house.

The Move to 110 Brampton Road

On Friday 14th August 1958 we moved to 110 Brampton Road. There was a sense of excitement within the whole family; I had a good feeling that life was going to start improving. On the first day we explored our new house there was loads of rubbish and bits and pieces that had been left. Under the stairs there were some cards and coins and other odds and ends. I was sad that by the time I got to look there was nothing left. We explored the garden; this was an adventure in its self. (At Stanhope road we were not allowed to go in the garden as the garden belonged to the man on the ground floor). The garden at Brampton Road was nothing like the well-manicured garden of Stanhope Road; there it was a load of mud near the house and some patchy grass the other end. Near the back door there was a double row of bricks where you could bash your feet against to remove the excess of mud that would inevitably attach itself to your shoes. There was a conservatory that looked as if it would fall down at any minute. It was made up hundreds of panes of glass. Many of the panes of glass were missing from the roof and some of the sides. We were not allowed to play in there, I assume for health and safety reasons. At the side of the house there was an outside toilet that was not used as it was full of cob webs. My brother Bart and I looked round the four sheds. One was attached to the house and then there were two sheds on the end of that one.  The right hand shed was full of the remnants of coal and the left hand side was full of bits of wood. After a further investigation of the coal shed I noticed amongst the coal a large gauge train set. It was all broken but I cleaned it up and played with it for a while. Then there was a wooden chicken coop with a low slanting roof and there was a door in the middle with 2 small windows either side covered in mesh. It was first exciting day at Brampton Road, in the excitement we forgot it was lunchtime and we were called in for some bread in with tuna in olive oil and sliced tomatoes. Only after seeing lunch did I realise that the excitement had made me ravenous. After we had eaten Anna said shall we explore the area, Maria came along and we walked down Brampton Road right into Woodstock Road South then right into Burnham Road and again right into Harlesden Road and finally right into Brampton Road, at this point I said to Anna and Maria were miles from home lets go back and they laughed as we were outside 110. I was completely confused as how we had got back home. I had tried to make a mental note of the roads as I was due to go to school in about 3 weeks and I wanted to make sure I could find my way back home. Life at Brampton road was the beginning of life becoming more tolerable, Bart and I would play in the garden and play games which usually involved the possibility of breaking limbs. We would jump from one shed to the chicken coop The art was not to sprain your ankle as you landed on the slanted roof. Then we would climb the apple tree and jump from the tree. Bart would jump from about 10 foot high, I was less inclined to risk my limbs and usually climbed down to about 6 foot where a notch on the side of the tree lent itself as a launch area to jump. My mother had made good friends with the woman who lived in the house at the end of our garden and she became a frequent visitor to our home.  Eileen was a salt of the earth type lady and seemed to take us under her wing and became both friend and mentor to our family. Eileen had three children called David, Susan and Kevin. Susan was about my age I became quite friendly with her as I knew she was going to be starting school of that same time as myself. During the day my mum went to work in the Kitchen at St Albans Hospital and Eileen would come round with Susan and  Kevin and we would walk to ‘The Wick’ (Marshalswick Woods) We would go round exploring everywhere climbing trees and admiring the bluebells. Susan used to keep saying you better hold my hand when we got to the little water filled ditches, she said the water was polluted and you would get polio if you fell in. It scared me to find out there was a 3rd illness you could get, I thought you could only get appendicitis and tonsillitis now there was polio, it was a scary thought especially as Susan said if the water touched your leg, your leg would seize up and you would have to wear a leg caliper for the rest of your life. Despite thinking she only wanted to hold my hand because she liked me the risk of polio made me capitulate and hold her hand.

Accident at Clarence Park

I was beginning to know the area by the time I was 6 years old, so I would go for a walk to either to The “Rec”, Clarence Park or the cemetery in Hatfield road. I would normally go out on my own when my mum was cleaning the house as she didn’t want me getting in the way. It was a Saturday and I decided to go to Clarence Park to watch the trains. I had a couple of pennies with me which I would put on the railway line and let the trains flatten them. I went up to the fence near Hatfield Road by the steps and tried to climb over it which, it proved to be a bit difficult. The fence was a three bar type with metal netting and it was about 5 foot high. As I struggled to climb the fence 2 girls aged about 10 or 11 came along and said did you need a hand, so I said yes please I’m going to put some coins on the railway line. The girls helped me over fence and lifted me up to the top bar as, I tried to jump off but my foot got caught and I went belly down onto the mud the other side. I thought to myself wow that was very painful as I stood up I noticed a bottle sticking into me which then fell off and blood was coming out from my stomach. I said to the girls help me I’m bleeding, at the sight blood the girls ran off as quickly as they could which left me on the wrong side of the fence. I tried to climb over the fence without success. By now my stomach was really hurting and I was bleeding quite badly. Eventually I crawled along the fence to an area where the metal netting had come away and crawled through it, I managed to crawl to the path hoping someone would come past from the steps. After a few minutes a man came past and said what’s happened, I said I fell over and a bottle stuck in me. The man said I need to take you to hospital and I said no, please, just take me home not to hospital; I just live in Brampton Road not far away. The man lifted me up and put me in his car which was in the car park and drove me home. He knocked on the door and said your sons been hurt but you need to take him to hospital. I was taken to hospital where I had stitches in the wound and a tetanus injection. After that day I made sure I only played on the railway lines when I was with Bart and Dave.

I Start at Fleetville School Tuesday 9th September 1958

It was now early September and the day arrived that I start School, I was not allowed to start on the Monday as I couldn’t speak English, I only knew a few words I knew, and no one ever understood me. My poor articulation necessitated having an assessment with Mrs Randle the head mistress. I remember getting up out of bed at a time that seemed very early and before this I had been allowed to sleep in. I put on the clean pair of short trousers and a jumper that looked like a version of Joseph’s coat of many colours, so now I was not only marginalised because of my nationality but also by my sartorial indifference. My mum seemed quite nervous, then Eileen arrived, she was always cheerful and inspired in me a sense of confidence. We walked to school and I asked Eileen what should I do when I need the toilet, she was the only English person I ever dared speak to as she understood what I said, no one else ever did. We waited in the hall for what seemed perpetuity of time, then my mum Eileen and myself went in to the headmistress’ office. Due to my rudimentary understanding of English I had no idea what was being said. Afterwards Eileen explained to my mum that I was going to be put in a group for aliens. (That’s what we were referred to) In this group were also children with learning difficulties. I was partly upset at being grouped with people with learning difficulties, but part of me was mindful that lessons would be over my head so I accepted the news with cautious alacrity.  As Eileen and my mum left, I suddenly felt very alone, Mrs Randle put on a very false smile seeing my abject anxiety.   I was taken into the classroom adjacent to the headmistress room and was introduced to Mrs Probert. The class room looked massive with loads of children there. Mrs Probert seemed a friendlier person, I had no idea what she was talking about but the body language made me feel she was a nice lady and she seemed genuine. Mrs Probert was a large lady with combed back ginger hair. She had strangely bent fingers and her hands looked disfigured. I was obviously staring and she told me she had arthritis in her hands and fingers. I understood it was a medical condition and I was a bit scared so I moved back a bit as I didn’t want to catch it. It was bad enough that you could get tonsillitis appendicitis and polio and now there was this arthritis to worry about. I felt quite good sitting there having my own desk, soon the bell went and everyone rushed out , I looked around wondering what on earth was going on. Then Mrs Probert said to a lad who was sitting near me to take him outside, so this boy grabbed hold of me and took me to the playground where kids were playing and I sort of understood this to be a break from lessons. The boy who took me to the playground seemed a really nice lad; mostly I was ignored by the other kids. The other children would agree on a game and knew this was wasted on someone who didn’t understand a word you said. Later the boy who took me out of class said could we be friends, this was purely construed from his manner as I could not understand what he was saying. He said something to me which I didn’t understand the next thing I know he has me round the neck and throes me to the ground and sits on me, I was very upset and eventually I pushed him off and walked away. I hadn’t realised he had been asking for a play fight, after a lot of explaining he made me aware he wanted to be my friend and that it was what boys did. He introduced himself as David Saul, said I could go to his house if I wanted, over the coming weeks and months he became a good friend. We went back to the class room and Mrs Probert read a short story and all the children were listening intently, and I really wished I could understand as it must be such an interesting story.

David Saull was now keeping an eye on me and would direct me to where we were going. Mrs Probert played the piano in the big hall and everyone started singing, I wondered why she had been repeating the same words over and over, I had no idea what the words meant, it later became evident that she was teaching the kids the words to a song. It was a lovely song and I so desperately wanted to sing along, sadly I had no idea what the words meant and couldn’t join in. The frustration manifested itself in tears that ran down my cheeks. Mrs Probert came over and said whatever is the matter. I said I want to go back to Italy where I can understand people are talking about, Mrs Probert had no idea what I was talking about as I said it in Italian. When I said I wanted to go back to Italy, at the age of 5 Italy or 110 Brampton Road were the same thing.  At Brampton Road both family and friends all spoke Italian. Anyway the bell went and David Saul went off somewhere, probably to the toilet so I went home, Gina was there and said what are you doing here, I said lessons had ended and she said no, it’s afternoon playtime you have another hour to go so she took me back to school. In the afternoon a black boy and a couple of Asian boys and me were taken out and handed over to Mrs Bland the English teacher. There were 6 of us aliens and a boy with special needs round a table in the dining hall, we were given additional lessons on how to speak English. Mrs Bland enjoyed teaching us in symmetry with having teeth pulled out without anaesthetic. The day finally ended and I was exhausted. Bart and Dave Driscoll were at home and told them about the day. Bart explained what I was saying to Dave; Bart was now fully able to converse. I told Bart and Dave about Mrs Probert and that she had arthritis, I said to Bart how many other medical conditions are there as four illnesses seemed quite a scary thought. Bart relayed my conversation to Dave and he said there was loads of stuff you can get wrong with you. I thought it was better to remain ignorant of such matters. As all three of us sat on the step outside the downstairs bedroom on the that September evening, I reflected on the day’s events and wondered what tomorrow would bring. The following few weeks and months at school were getting a little easier, the additional language class, were beginning to improve my understanding of English. David Saull continued to be a valued friend and mentor, always explaining things to me when I didn’t understand. 

David Saull asked me if I wanted to see him on Saturday, he said his dad, Douglas would come and pick me up in a car. I could not believe it I had never been in a car before and was so excited I could hardly contain myself. David’s dad turned up in a convertible little car, which was, or looked like a Triumph Herald Convertible. We went to David’s house at 425 Hatfield Road between the shops at Oakland’s and Wynchlands Crescent. After a couple of hours, David asked me if want to go home or see his mum in hospital? I said are we going by car? he replied yes as it’s quite far away so I agreed to go. Dave asked me if my mum would mind be going off for the afternoon and I said no, in all honesty I felt the more I was away from home the more pleased my mother was. As we drove off to the hospital I said has you mum got tonsillitis arthritis, polio or appendicitis? David said no she is in a mental hospital, I wasn’t quite sure what that meant but it scared me. I didn’t like the sound of that. David said it’s ok she lived in London during the blitz, the area where she lived had been transformed by the unrelenting bombing of the Luftwaffe, the scale of the bombing was unprecedented, in one month alone, the German Air Force dropped 5,300 tons of high explosives on London in just 24 nights, the damage to buildings was horrendous enough but the human cost was worse both in terms of the people who died and the ones who survived physically but didn’t fare so well mentally. David’s mum had suffered from shell shock, or combat stress reaction as we call it today. Combat stress was initially a term coined to describe the reaction of some soldiers to the trauma of battle, however many civilians also were affected. This had left David’s mum not being able to cope with every-day life. I didn’t really understand what David was telling me about his mum, I had heard many anecdotal references about the war from my mum and dad but they weren’t in a mental hospital. The car journey was very nice it was a hot sunny day as we made our way to London Colney, I don’t remember whether we went to Harperbury or Shenley Hospital, but it scared me to go there in case they kept me in, my mum had often said I was mental and in fact called me “mamea” Italian slang for mental. When we arrived the first thing I noticed was a beautiful gardens and nothing like I had imagined a mental hospital would look like. I was a bit scared to go in so Douglas, David’s dad said we could play football on the grass outside.  After a while David’s dad came outside to meet us and said David come and say goodbye to your mum. David said do you want to come in or wait here, I was 5 years old and I was too scared to go in but even more scared to be on my own with mental patients wandering around outside, so I went in with David. David’s mum was a very thin pale looking woman; she looked so frail. David’s mum was lying in bed and I couldn’t help wondering what this shell shock was that caused such debilitation that meant you couldn’t move. David jumped on the bed all matter-of-factly as if she was a normal woman and says hello mum, you ok. She hugged him and kissed him, even from the perspective of a five year old, this all seemed so normal for a mental patient, my mum wasn’t mental and she never hugged me. Then David’s mother says who is this young man, and David says it’s my best friend Raff. She says come here little boy and beckoned me with her finger, I froze to the spot; it was like some super-glue had got on my shoes. She then says to David, oh my, he’s scared of me, come here little boy, I won’t hurt you. I was still unsure, then David said she’s ok she won’t hurt you, David had never let me down and his assurance eventually mobilised my feet. I went up to her and she gently hugged me, again I thought how sweet, I am being hugged by a mental patient with such amazing maternal instincts, something that my own mother had never had. She then says there you are nothing to be scared of. A sense of calm came over me as I felt a great sense of empathy, with this poor sweet, gentle lady who was trapped in a confused world which she did not have the cognitive perception to understand. I had great empathy with her as I too was in a parallel world not because of some war induced neurosis, but purely due to being in a country where people spoke a language that I did not understand. The meeting with that dear sweet lady had diluted and diminished my pain as I now realised that English people also lived with problems but still had the propensity to be kind to an alien. I was never scared of her meeting her again.

School days were quite enjoyable and if ever I thought it was bad I would remember what life was like being stuck at home so and would readily go to school. The last of the 50’s passed quite uneventfully. Anna broke her leg after slipping on some Ice I remember her leg in plaster.

The start of the 60’s was another move towards happier times. Pop music began to be a feature in our lives, it started with Elvis Presley singing 'O sole mio" this was a globally known Neapolitan song written and composed in 1898 by Eduardo di Capua. It had been performed and covered by many artists, and now my dad was singing it to the family. Elvis had already had previous hits and my dad liked his voice and now he was singing a song we all knew well. Also Cliff Richard, the English Elvis brought out ‘Please Don't Tease’ then Elvis Presley recorded ‘The Girl Of My Best Friend’. Songs that my dad didn’t like were liked by Anna , songs like, Everly Brothers ‘Cathy's Clown’ , Jimmy Jones ‘Handy Man’, The Shadows Apache,  The Drifters Save The Last Dance For Me, Anthony Newley ‘Why?’ Duane Eddy ‘Because’ & Johnny Kidd ‘They're Young’ and Shakin' All Over.

Mid – to late 1960’s

Snow fell for 36 Hours -Thursday 7 Feb 1963 - It's Thursday 7th Feb I had to go to school. Snow had been falling non-stop for 36 hours. I couldn't open the back door so my mum helped me, we were trying to push the back door, which opened outwards, then we realised we were pushing against a 3 foot snow drift. Mum insisted I go to school as the water pipe had burst in the kitchen, she wanted us out of the way. It was impossible to walk on the snow; I had to wade through it. The snow was about two feet deep, 3 feet in some drifts. I had to go to school as mum would have killed me. Although the journey took ages I managed to get to Fleetville School. Some people had cleared snow away from the path outside their house so I managed to keep going. When I got to my classroom there was Mrs Christmas & Gerald Finnegan, we were the only ones brave enough or stupid enough to go to school. The classroom was freezing, Mrs Christmas said we could tidy up the nature table which we did. After an hour as no one else turned up so Mrs Christmas said we could go home. It was too early for me to go home as mum would have gone mad at me being home early so I went to Gerald Finnegan’s house, his mum made us a cup of tea and I warmed myself by the open fire in front room. When it was about time that school normally finished I made the journey home but this time it took even longer as I now had to come from Castle Road. No wonder I felt cold, it said on the radio that this is the coldest it has been since 1814. I just wish I had long trousers so that my knees wouldn't freeze up. Short trousers are no fun in this weather. Soon summer came and in the balmy summer of 1964 I would spend all my lunch hour with Michael Penman singing songs from the charts with the whole school listening to us and with Michael doing all the choreography as well. Our favourite songs to sing were: Manfred Mann, Do Wah Diddy, Peter & Gordon, World Without Love, Cilla Black, Anyone Who Had A Heart, The Beatles, I Want To Hold Your Hand, You Were Made for Me, Freddie & The dreamers.

Start At Beaumont School, St Albans. Monday 7th September 1964

After being the eldest at Fleetville School, we now were the youngest at Beaumont School in St Albans. I was both excited and scared. The older boys there were like men, some of them even shaved! I thought it was odd that by the time I left this school I would finally be a man. At my first day at Beaumont I was humiliated because of my poor spelling. We had to write on the board who our best friend was and I wrote Jhon Pepper, well phonetically it should be spelt that way instead of John. Well, I don’t think anyone else saw my point of view and it caused hysterics in the class. After that I decided education wasn’t really for me so I started to mess around and not worry too much about learning anything. I was far more interested in pop music and carried a leather cased radio everywhere I went; people would recognise me as the Radio Boy. This was well before the era of people walking around with music, it took another 15 years for Sony to come up with the Sony Walkman and the start of people walking around listening to music, I was 15 years ahead of my time. I loved listening to the charts, by now in 1964 there was some amazing bands singing fab songs like The Rolling Stones "It's All Over Now" The Beatles "A Hard Day's Night” Manfred Mann "Do Wah Diddy Diddy" The Kinks "You Really Got Me" Herman's Hermits "I'm Into Something Good" Roy Orbison "Oh, Pretty Woman" Sandie Shaw "(There's) Always Something There to Remind. By the time I was in the second year, I noticed that girls in the first year fancied me. I loved the attention but I didn’t really like the idea of having a girlfriend at the age of twelve, so I flirted but played hard to get as I didn’t want to be got and this seemed to make me more attractive to the girls in the first year.

My time at Beaumont School was mostly spent being the leader of a gang, and most efforts was geared to getting girls to like me but not going out with them as my mates were much more important to me than girls. I went out with a couple of girls and was always bored and then dumped them so I could go back to my mates.

I Leave School Tuesday 13th May 1969

Diary entry “Hooray, I’ve left school, At precisely 3.15 pm today I left school, it was a lovely sunny day, I went to Robert Kindlyside house at 285 Hatfield Road St Albans and sat in his garden, his mum brought out a glass of orange.” I had left school with little education and now I needed a job, the teachers had suggested I try to get a job as a waiter or toilet attendant as there was several toilets in St Albans that had attendants. I decided to see Clive Sparshott who owed the greengrocers in Stanhope Road; I had already worked for him on the Saturday market and was hoping he would agree to take me on full time in his shop. Clive asked me to take phone orders for all the restaurants he supplied, I loved sitting in the little office at the back of the shop, I felt really important. The office was a bit of a mess, papers everywhere & rotting punnets of strawberries and other fruit going mouldy, so I tided it all up, put everything in proper order and used the filing trays, Clive was quite impressed. I thought one day when I’m educated I’d love to work in a real office.