Pie 'n' Mash and Prefabs (21 page)

At the age of about fourteen, I started going to a youth club in Bow with Herb, as it was quite near where he lived. It was attached to the local Methodist Church and run by the minister, the Revd. David Monckton. The club itself was not used to push Methodism or any other form of religion and welcomed youngsters of all or no religions. It was a place where we could play table tennis, snooker, pool, darts or just sit around and chat; there was also a small kitchen attached.

Not long after I joined, I was told it was my turn to make the tea and coffee, so I went into the kitchen to boil the kettle, something I had done many times at home, but, horror of horrors, it was a gas kettle and only having electricity in the
prefab I had never come across this way of boiling a kettle before. I knew that you had to light the gas on the stove and put the kettle on it, but I had heard stories of gas explosions and I was very wary of the whole process. What I did therefore was to turn on the gas, light a match and then turn the gas down as low as I could before trying to light it to avoid blowing up the whole youth club and everyone in it. However, what kept happening was that I turned it down so low that the gas went out altogether. I must have got through a boxful of matches before I decided that I had to be brave, turn the gas on and just light it. To my great relief, all that happened was the gas lit and I was able to boil the kettle. No big explosion and the youth club managed to survive. Fortunately, no one came into the kitchen to see what was taking me so long.

The other good thing about the club was that it brought us into contact with girls. Apart from some of my cousins, I hadn't really seen any girls close up to speak to since Junior School. After a few weeks, we started to feel part of the club and became friendly with many of the other members. One evening, as we were leaving, one of the older boys, Don, said to Herb and me, ‘We usually go down the pub after club. Do you want to come with us?'

Somewhat naively, I said, ‘We can't go there, we're only fifteen.'

Herb gave me a withering look and said, ‘Well, you don't have to come but I'm going.'

But of course, I did have to go! So we trooped across to the pub and, without asking, Don ordered us a pint of Red Barrel each. Red Barrel was a hugely popular drink in the 1960s
and something of a cultural phenomenon. If you went into a Watney's pub, you were expected to buy Red Barrel. The strange thing was that, as well as being so popular, it was almost de rigueur to deride it and complain that it was too fizzy or had no flavour. Its great rival was Ind Coope's Double Diamond, which seemed to suffer the same fate of being universally popular while at the same time generally criticised.

This was my first alcoholic drink and I had heard stories of people being sick with their first pint so I drank it quite slowly and frankly wasn't really impressed by it. I would have preferred a glass of lemonade but of course I didn't dare say so.

My night of growing up wasn't quite over yet, however, as, just after we arrived, I was a little taken aback when Herbert took a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and offered me one. I wasn't sure what to do as I had never had one before, but I didn't want to seem odd so I took one, though, as it happens, a couple of the others refused, so I wouldn't have been the only one not smoking. Just like with alcohol, I had heard stories about people having their first cigarette and choking or being sick so I was a bit apprehensive, but it was too late to go back now and, when Herbert lit it for me, I took my first drag and proceeded to smoke the whole cigarette without choking or feeling sick. Not only that but I actually quite enjoyed it. It was a different but pleasant sensation.

Although I don't think the minister approved, our visits to the pub, the Lady Franklin, after the club became a regular part of the evening. It was during one of these after-club drinks that I at last summoned up the courage to talk to Minna Sheppard, a girl I had quite fancied for some time, but, having had no real
experience with girls, had not really had the guts to speak to before, at least not in a chatting-up way. The evening went well as she responded encouragingly to my stilted attempts at small talk and I thought to myself, I really have got to ask her out the next time I see her.

There was a big pop concert, starring Del Shannon, Johnny Tillotson and The Springfields, coming up at the Walthamstow Granada in a couple of weeks. As it happened, the Walthamstow Granada was next door to our school clothing outfitter, Henry Taylor, in Hoe Street and I had to buy some new school shirts. So, after getting the shirts, I went to the box office and bought two tickets for the concert.

The following week, as usual we went to the pub and I decided that it had to be tonight or never, so armed with my two tickets I sat down next to Minna. I had never asked a girl out before and I felt very nervous, especially as there were so many other people around. Suppose she said no? Worse, suppose she laughed at me in front of our friends? This called for a bit of strategy to try to get her on her own. As there were so many of us, it had become a tradition to take weekly turns in buying the drinks as if we all bought a round every time we went we'd not only be there all night but we would probably have found it difficult to stay upright!

We normally stayed for two or three pints and, as it happened, this week it was Herb's turn to buy the first round and mine to get the second. So I came up with a plan inside my head that when it was my turn to get them in I'd ask Minna if she'd help me get the drinks and ask her out when we were alone at the bar. At least this put the dreaded moment off for a
while and I sat slowly sipping my first drink. I didn't take much part in the conversation going on around me as words kept going round and round in my head. ‘Would you like to come out with me?', ‘I've got two tickets…', ‘I like you, Minna, so I was wondering…' What was I going to say exactly? Suddenly I heard Herb saying to me, ‘You're smoking a lot tonight.'

I realised then that the other thing I was doing was almost chain smoking. As soon as I'd put one cigarette out, I was lighting another. (I was now buying my own cigarettes, though I was only really smoking when I went out with my friends.) I smiled and then Herb said, ‘Drink up, it's your turn. Everyone's gasping.'

I noticed that most people had finished their drinks and, although I still had some way to go, I said, ‘Okay,' and got up slowly to go to the bar.

My heart was pounding and my knees turned to jelly and I thought perhaps I could phone her. For some reason just at that point, she looked at me and smiled. I thought to myself, ‘No, it's got to be now or never,' so I said to her, ‘Come and help me with the drinks, Minna?'

She nodded and came to the bar with me. I ordered the round and turned to her. There was a pause while I metaphorically took a deep breath and eventually blurted out, ‘Minna, I don't suppose you'd like to come out with me next Sunday, would you? I've got two tickets for Del Shannon at the Granada.'

Her head shot up as though I'd given her an electric shock. ‘Del Shannon,' she squealed excitedly, ‘I'd love to! He's my favourite. How did you get tickets?'

My mind was reeling. Did she really say, ‘I'd love to'? All
I could say by way of a reply was: ‘You would?' Just then the drinks arrived and we took them back to the table.

‘Norman's taking me to see Del Shannon next week,' she announced as soon as we got back to the table. ‘I can't believe it. I love him!' There was a spontaneous ‘oooo' from everyone. ‘No, not Norman,' she said, ‘Del Shannon.'

Even that slight put-down didn't dampen my spirits and I felt on cloud nine. The first girl I'd asked out and she'd said yes!

The sequel to this wasn't so good, however. I was used to Minna wearing very casual clothes at the club, mostly black, and I thought she looked very sexy in a sweater and jeans. We'd arranged to meet at a bus stop near where she lived, as for some reason she didn't want me to call at her house, but when she turned up I had to look twice to make sure it was her as she was wearing a dress. But that wasn't the problem and nor was the large feather boa she was also wearing: it was her make-up. She had put gallons of the stuff on her face. In particular, I found the heavy green eye-liner a huge turn-off. She just wasn't the same girl! I expect she'd done it to look nice for me and Del Shannon but I actually felt quite embarrassed being with her. Being in something of a daze, we hardly spoke going to the concert, though once we were there we did manage some light, if stilted, conversation and, on the way back, we managed a brief discussion about the show. When we got off the bus, I said, ‘I'll see you then.'

She took hold of my hand and said, ‘Aren't you going to kiss me goodnight then?'

It was something that had worried me before I came out. Having never been out with a girl I wasn't sure of the protocol
of kissing on the first date. But now, I didn't really want to kiss her anyway. However, I said, ‘Oh yes, of course,' and we kissed very briefly on the lips. Then I said, ‘I've got to go. See you.' And I scooted off as fast as I respectably could.

When I got home, I felt terrible. My first date and it had been a disaster from my point of view. The problem was I really did like Minna when she was herself, but all the make-up and fancy clothes wasn't her, I felt.

Incidentally, it's probably a real sign of the times that I worried about kissing on a first date. This was one of the things we used to discuss in the playground as well as the other weighty matter of should you go all the way before you were married, even if you were going steady. Perhaps the early sixties was the last time such conversations took place before the sexual revolution of the late sixties as the contraceptive pill became more widely available and there was generally a much freer attitude towards sex with the hippie era of free love.

We met again the following week at the club when she was once again dressed in her black sweater and jeans. After the meeting, I took her to one side and said, ‘Can we go to a different pub, just the two of us?'

She gave me an old-fashioned look and said, ‘I didn't think you'd want to speak to me again after last Sunday.'

‘Yes, I'm sorry about that,' I replied. ‘That's why I want to talk to you alone.'

So, to the knowing nods and winks plus a few coarse comments from our friends, we walked off to another pub, a little further away. When we got there, I said, ‘I'm sorry about last week, but to be honest I was a bit shocked by your
appearance. I'd really like to go out with you again,' I added, ‘but I like you just as you are now.'

Much to my relief, she smiled and just said, ‘Okay.'

We went out together a few more times and she never again wore bright-green eye-liner, but in spite of this we were never really able to put that first date behind us and the relationship didn't last very long as we didn't really have a lot in common. For one thing, she didn't like any form of sport. Can you believe it? Nevertheless, she was my first proper girlfriend.

After a couple of years at the club, the Minister started a new section for eight to twelve year olds and put Herb and me in charge of it. This used to take place earlier in the evening on the same night as the youth club, which didn't give much time to get our homework done on those evenings. It was generally enjoyable and made me feel that perhaps my decision to go to teacher training college might have been the right choice.

It was about this time that we started writing our novel,
Lilo Schlieberger Down South.
We used to meet, just the two of us, in the Lady Franklin on a separate night to club night and over a pint or two of brown and mild and maybe a barley wine and several cigarettes add a few pages each week. The novel began something like this,

We continued writing this book on and off for the next five years or so. It was always a mystery to us why some publisher did not see its potential as a bestseller and snap it up…

Going to the club was the start of regularly going out in the evenings. As my teens wore on, I had little enthusiasm for staying in and watching television and I spent a lot of time going out with friends, either to sporting events, folk clubs, political meetings or just down the pub. When we went out to the pub, we didn't have a regular haunt – apart from the Lady Franklin on club night – as there were many pubs in Hackney, so we used to frequent different ones all over the borough. At that time, all of them had at least two bars, the saloon bar and the public bar. We always went into the public bar – it was a bit cheaper because it wasn't quite so comfortable. For example, whereas the saloon bar had carpets on the floor, the public bar usually just had sawdust. The chairs round the tables in the public bar were bog standard wooden ones, whereas in the saloon bar they would be upholstered and have cushions. As well as drinking, putting the world to rights and talking about girls, we used to play darts a lot.

Sport still played a big part in my life and that of my friends, particularly John but also Herb. This was especially true at the weekends and in the holidays but also during term time. At Rushmore, nearly everyone was a Leyton Orient supporter, as their stadium wasn't far away, but with a wider catchment area there was a bigger variety of supported teams at Parmiter's,
especially West Ham, Spurs and Arsenal. Herb was a keen Gunners fan and we went to Highbury several times to see them play. The only time I went to White Hart Lane to see Spurs was a midweek game when we were supposed to be at school. This was in January 1963. Spurs were the leading team in the old First Division in the early 1960s, having won the league in 1961 and the F.A. Cup in 1962. One of their biggest rivals was Burnley, who had finished runners-up in both the league and cup in 1962. The third round of the 1962/63 F.A. Cup drew these two teams together with ties due to be played on 5 January 1963. However, due to the big freeze, only three matches were actually played on that day, some not taking place until March. The Spurs–Burnley match, however, took place on Wednesday, 16 January. It was the most important match of the round and, in fact, was a repeat of the 1961/62 Cup Final. John, who was a diehard Spurs supporter, and I thought it was too good to miss, even if we were supposed to be at school. Several other boys in our class thought so too so we decided to bunk off school to see it.