By Isle of Wight Observer
I was born 100 years ago in East Cowes, the year of the 1926 General Strike. I went to Osborne Road Infant School and remember getting pocket money for running errands, like to Burgess the Chemists, in York Avenue/Clarence Road.
I lived with my two sisters in a two-up/two-down terrace house, with an outdoor toilet; we had a tin bath once a week, with coal heating and a wireless, which had an accumulator that needed charging regularly. We enjoyed carnivals and regattas, including greasy pole events, and crossed the Medina on a floating bridge that never broke down. If the tide was a problem, the crew would put planks down or give you a piggy back to the shore.
At age 9, I remember going to the opening of the King’s Cinema in East Cowes, where Waitrose is now; it was a tanner for adults, or thruppence for children in the first three rows. Sweets and ice cream were a penny, as were chips at Maskell’s Chippie on the way home, after we stood for the King’s national anthem. King George, and a porcelain-faced Queen Mary, used to come to the Island a lot; they stayed at Osborne, with the local men always doffing their caps or taking their hats off as a mark of respect, while ladies curtseyed.
I left school at 14, and worked in the offices at Saunders Row earning seven shillings a week, with 5 bob going to my mum for keep. I learned shorthand and typing at Denmark Road School, and we had to carry gas masks, identity cards, and ration books.
There was half-day closing on Wednesdays but we worked all day on Saturdays. Twice a year we went to Southampton, on the paddleship, to work on the mainland.
During the war, we would go to dances, one with Glenn Miller playing, and once inviting Canadians that had been burnt – that was sad. I recall sitting on the slipway at East Cowes on D-Day, and – although most of the ships were on their way to Normandy – the supply ships were in constant use.
My husband, Bill, was in the forces on the mainland. Five years after we met we married in Cowes, with a reception at Northwood House.
My dress was made from a nylon parachute, and the refreshments subject to rationing.
I stayed in hospital for a week for the birth of our son, which was before the start of the NHS. It cost 17s 6d – as much as Bill earned in a week.
Later I worked at a large boys’ school, in Wandsworth, for 20 years where we discovered a love for bowls and qualified as coaches. We were members of Merton Park Club, and enjoyed Bowls weekends in Bembridge.
After Bill died, I returned to the Island for family reasons and joined Shanklin Bowls Club. Although I don’t play as much as I used to, I still pop down: all Island clubs are a welcoming place for players and visitors alike. I gave most of my trophies to a local school to use as awards for children.
When the IW Council were closing Shanklin Theatre, I helped set up the charity to keep it open, being the 64th volunteer to sign up, and I still help usher on show nights. I have enjoyed every year, and James Derbyshire took me onto the stage on the last night of the panto at Christmas.
I have seen so much change in my lifetime, and would encourage readers to volunteer and stay active, in mind and body, and if you give to your community, your community will embrace and look after you.