Serving the Colours

@RHerriott

I was interested in Jenny's forefathers, at least the ones who served in the British Army.  Until well after the second world war there was often no other opportunity for an unemployed young man than enlisting as a 'sodger!'  Of course many joined the Royal Navy or Merchant Navy in similar circumstances, but reliable long term work was not always easy to obtain, nor to keep.  So, for many soldiering was a choice.  It gave a regular wage (10 shillings a week or so in 1914), a uniform as clothes were expensive, and the opportunity to see the world, a world that would remain unseen otherwise.

Those in work could count on a day or so holiday in some jobs, a weeks leave was possible but usually unpaid, unless you were in a clerical role, and wandering around the world was only for the wealthy.

So, in 1925, unable to find work, my father and his mate next door wandered up to the recruiting office.  

'How old are you?' asked the sergeant.

'18,' They replied.

'Go for a walk around the block, and come back when you are 19,' suggested the sergeant.

A short while later the pair returned.

'How old are you,' gruffed the sergeant.

'19,' they replied.

'Sign here.'

And they were in.

Well not exactly.  The MO, the doctor, decided my dad's mate had flat feet and rejected him, so my dad found himself alone in the 2nd Battalion the Kings Own Scottish Borderers,' for 7 years and 3 in reserve.

Within a year he was sending postcards from Egypt, where he climbed the pyramids, then Hong Kong where hew as to lodge for 5 years.  A young man of his time would have been lucky to get a train to North Berwick or Glasgow for a holiday.  Railways enabled many to get out and about, but if paid 10-15 shillings a week then a 3'6d rail fair was a lot.  There again, where would the money for the day off come from?  

I suspect there was also the Imperialist propaganda at the back of his mind.  The UK had an Empire, we ruled the world, and he would see no problem at the time with dominating either the Chinese or the Indians he would meet much later.  He probably considered he was doing them good!  How times and ideas change in a hundred years.  

@RHerriott

Was it 1961 my brother enlisted?  A very different time, a very differing mental outlook among the people.  The Empire remained, though it was breaking up fast.  People rejoiced in a time when 'they never had it so good,' and yet the draw of a service life, this time as a photographer in the RAF was tempting for many.   There was no 'walking round the block,' here, you enlisted at 19 or went away for a year.   National Service had ended, no conscription, so all this was voluntary, and my brother had no intention of slugging it out under bullying corporals in the army, so he joined the RAF.  Here, he found bullying corporals, but once passed the test he found intelligent men who were willing to work for the cause and have fun at the same time.  The RAF has always drawn in a more relaxed crowd, mostly middle class, and often technically minded.  This is something soldiering had little need for until the last 30 or so years.  Many young soldiers now have learned their job through online games rather than pub brawls.  Many enjoy both of course.

While dad kicked around the Chinese for a while and then tended to the hospital patients in India where he chose to be an orderly, Rob had a much more civilised time in Germany, Cyprus and what is now Dubai!  He also endured after 102% in the Gulf the pleasure of RAF Kinloss, where 102% only existed in your oven.  Whether he owned or stole the Royal Enfield bike I know not, but we never saw it. He did have a habit of acquiring shoddy vehicles.

The point that got my attention with Jenny's family is how so many were forced into the armed forces.  It was a take it or starve policy that many benefited from.  But how did this affect the children?  Some I know had family in RAF or diplomatic service and travelled across the world.  Some were dumped in Boarding schools, others on family members, or trudged around the world grabbing education here and there.  Was this good for them?  

I have to say it would have suited me in some ways,  constant change would enable me to leave behind things I did not like, as well as things I did like.  The experience of foreign places early in life, the warmth instead of the sold, different exotic foods, and possibly a less disciplined regime?  A Boarding School would have been awful, not that this would have been considered by our family, only the middle classes went there.  The main loss of constant moving would be the effect on the family.  If the family was good and able to keep together it could be a great time.  If it was troublesome or partings were forced this could be difficult for many.  Families are meant to be together.

I never enlisted, though my father often suggested I joined the Soviet Union army, for the sake of the country...

'Snowed in' Saturday

I am enjoying our latest attempt at being snowed in.  This however is fine by me after the trip into the Midlands I am happy to watch small, slushy flakes of snow littering the world.  Yet another brief interlude of snow for a day or two, not unusual for March. 
So I sit here writing emails regarding the events in the Midlands.  Funerals are strange events, this one involved a burial, quite why my brother wished this I am not sure, maybe he just wishes us to take long trips out of our way to stand in the rain and wind remembering him, it would be his type of humour!  As it was the day was bright, the sun shone and took the edge of the chill wind arriving from the east.  

The travel included passing through St Pancras station.  The last time I was there was about 30 years ago and how it has changed.  Having struggled through the underground I now walked about a mile or more past these grossly overpriced shops in this brightly lit tourist filled mall.  Not only was this not here 30 years ago I did not realise where the platforms were!  "Upstairs!" he said knowing I didn't believe him.  However after walking back the way I came clutching my ticket I found an escalator going upwards.  The nearest one much to my by now tired bodies dismay came downwards.  Only upstairs did I understand the layout of the station here under the huge cavernous space I realised the platforms had moved bar the ones on the far side now used by the Eurostar trains, the reuse of the undercroft, once used to hold major beer haulage as it was transported around the country, for the mall is a sensible way to gather money.
St Pancras apparently was a 14 year old Christian who Diocletian had executed for his faith.  No, I had not heard of him either.  Pancras means 'The one that holds everything' whatever that means.
During 1868 the first train, the overnight mail from Leeds, arrived at St Pancras Station  stopping under the vast metal and glass roof designed by Barlow & Ordish that has the largest span in the world.  

The 'Midland Railway' built the line and in 1923 joined with the 'London and North Western Railway' plus the 'Lancashire & Yorkshire Railway' to form the famous 'London, Midland & Scottish' Railway Company (LMS).  These maroon coloured engines hauled their fare through the middle of the country.  This came to an end with welcome nationalisation in 1948 when 'British Railways' came into being.  Only nationalised railways can serve the nation as privatised ones merely take the money out of the governments generous purse and keep it to the few at the top.

 
To hide the train shed the Midland railway opened the fabulous station hotel built across the from of the entrance.  This is a tourist site in itself!  It has been said that Sir George Gilbert Scott originally had this design for the Foreign Office but the then Prime Minister Lord Palmerston would not accept any 'Gothic' design.  In stead he insisted on a 'Greek' model and this indeed is what Scott built for him.  However when asked to create a hotel for the Midland Railway he merely took his design, moved the centre tower to a position to the end of the building and created this masterpiece.  Today just walking through the station now it has been renovated takes the breathe away.  I have been inside the building many years ago when it was being used by BT among others.  Even among the accumulated crud of years it was possible to see the fantastic quality of this building.  The hotel failed in 1935 and became LMS railway offices remaining in lean condition until reopened recently as the St Pancras Renaissance Hotel.  Of course I cannot afford to stay there!

The Hind Hotel in Wellingborough has recently been given a new owner, this is good as it is in much need of refurbishment.  Meeting the rest of the family who managed to make it we found the staff very friendly, helpful and capable on the late shift.  This was the hotels strongest point in my view.  As a three star hotel it was acceptable, everything worked, effort had been made to keep it clean and usable and my knees were delighted to climb the ancient wooden stairs to the second floor.  The lassie on the desk helpfully offered to carry my bag 'if I needed help!'  Grump!

The 'Hind Hotel' was built by Lord Hatton a courtier of Queen Elizabeth who had a hind on his coat of arms.  He became a loyal courtier of Elizabeth and was granted much by her and in time reached as high a position as Lord Chancellor.  It did not stop him dying with great debts, these folks knew how to lose money.  The Hind was built in 'Jacobean style' at a time when Lizzie was trying to ensure Catholics did not return to power yet Hatton remained one of her favourites.  Originally the building offered hospitality possibly to those visiting the nearby abbey and they claim evidence Cromwell slept here before the Battle of Naseby.  Cromwell, like Elizabeth, slept in many more places than he actually visited of course. 

The wooden doors, stairs, bannisters alongside the remains of the coloured glass in the windows indicates something of the quality of the original building.  Once the refurbishment is complete this will be an outstanding building.

  
This was one of the fireplaces this time referencing Victoria though it is not possible to say when it was installed.  Now used as a breakfast room and as you can see polished often!

I thought the rooms decent enough though in one or two places the paper was beginning to come away.  This made the place feel just like home!  TV at the far end where my eyes could not reach was irrelevant as I never watch it anyway however I did consider installing a radio by the bed would have been a good idea as I listen to that.

The weather remained fine for the funeral, the wind eased by the sunshine and the short service led by a man who was not a 'Humanist' as one thought but a 'Spiritual Atheist.'  A what?  Yes I wondered also however he was raised in a proper evangelical background and now (I think having retired) he had begun to doubt his faith and the biblical view.  Listening to him as we talked at the buffet (wake to you) in the 'Stags Head,' a lovely pub, I got the impression it was not a lack of belief but the fact he may have been gay and was attempting to fit that with reality, it will however not work.   I could not help but like this man who took trouble to understand my brother and thoughtfully led the service.   

A handful of people from my brothers past attended and it was good to hear stories untold by him.  I was not aware that at his work on your birthday you brought n a bottle of whisky which was empty by closing time.  Nor was I aware that he stood the bottle upside down just to ensure he got the dregs from the bottle and obtained his monies worth.  This is not a  family habit...  

   
I journeyed back with two soprano's, friends of my talented niece who she often does concerts with, and once again visited St Pancras.  This time I wandered around the station and at the base of the needless slushy statue of a couple kissing hello or goodbye found these carvings at the bottom.  All round the base several carvings in what looks like brass appear telling stories of those who have  passed through.  The pictures a re lighter than reality.

Troop trains must have carried thousands of men from this station, not all going abroad of course, many training in various parts of the land.  Others were returning from far off, some wounded, and on both occasions relatives may well have watched the comings and goings with worried thoughts.

This looks like a 'tramp,' or 'homeless' as we must call them today, it could indeed be a 'bag lady' but I do not know the story connected.  This is a shame as the dog alongside has been well loved by kids and others passing by.

The photo does not do this justice but I plead tiredness and desperation to get to the Tube for my next train.  Clearly this one is popular and the head well rubbed.  I suppose it was a local who lived near, in or under the station at one time, possibly someone will know.

 
It is just not possible to picture this magnificent building from the ground.  You must get high up and find a decent position.  Standing on a Friday afternoon with around a million people roaming around is not the ideal way to take photographs.  

 
It is even harder with a man asking for money for food and failing to get some as he was in my view influenced by drugs/drink and just not getting any from anyone.  It is easy to feel guilty by not helping but easing your conscience will not help him and if you really wish to help I say give to one of the many organisations that work among sch folks, then those in need will get help.

Then it was home with one more change arriving in time for tea.  However I could not get my knees interested in heading to the shops so made do with anything lying around.  Luckily I had thought cleverly enough to get something in and leave it for my return, it did not feel anything like enough.
I keep trying to get fit and keep failing, this journey revealed just how unfit I am and I must do something about this and will start this possibly on Wednesday, if I have the energy... 

The Sea, The Sea! Well the Forth Anyway...

I had to dig out a couple of my brothers photos and now I want to be back in Cramond walking along the front looking at the bird life and the view of Fife over the water.  The one major problem with this town is that it is far from the water. 
There is nothing like the sea.  The light, even when the weather is towsy, is different.  The light bounces back and forth from water to sky and gives a new view of the world.  The sea air, always bracing if it is litter full and trapped in a gully, changes the view of life.  People appear happier walking by the sea, relax is the word that seasides bring, well not if accompanied by a thousand children obviously.
Up in Edinburgh for my mothers funeral eight years ago my brother and I wandered along the front after 'seeing the body.'  This was a relaxing way to consider the new situation.  Having known the area from Cramond right along to Granton Harbour it brought back many memories and we could see how things have changed, though most of the place looks similar to our memories.    
We learn how to enjoy the seaside as children.  This is passed on to a younger generation and on and on afterwards.  Few children fail to enjoy the sea.
In the past people feared the sea.  Men travelled over many miles to trade and explore in thousands of years past yet we still feared the sea while doing so.  Only those who fish or those who trade or explore would consider sea voyages a sensible idea.  However the need to see what lies over the sea is within many of us.  From dugout trees to super liners we want to travel the sea to get to the other side but while this is attractive the majority would rather sit by the sea and just enjoy it from the side.  Sometimes I think I can smell the see though this may be the drains of course.  Sometime soon I must get down to the coast and bore people with photos...