When I was a little girl, we lived in an English town called Kettering in Northhamptonshire,
noted for the manufacture of boots and shoes. There were boot factories at many
street corners, where the greater part of the working people of Kettering gained
their livelihood. My father worked in one of these factories as a'finisher'.
He had to finish offf the soles and heels, removing any rough edges, paint them
with finishing ink, rub heel-ball over them, then a hot iron used for the purpose
(I can't remember its name). Lastly he would polish them vigorously with a soft
pad or duster. Machinery was used for the making of the uppers, but I think
a good deal of the finishing was done by hand. My father always came home with
black hands and no matter how carefully he washed them, he couldn't completely
erase the streaks of finishing ink.
I was always glad to see him come home after work and waited impatiently while
he had a wash and mother prepared the evening meal. When I was about two years
old I remember one such evening quite clearly. He picked me up and carried me
around the living-room showing me the pictures on the wall and telling me stories
about them. We came to a china plate with a picture of two little nude girls,
with just a wide ribbon floating around them, and across the top in gilt letters
"A Present from the Crystal Palace". My Dad said to me, "We're going to put
you on a picture like that."
"Just like that" said I, in some consternation.
"Yes, just like that!"
"Will I have to stay there?"
"Yes"
"Always?"
I didn't like the idea at all, perhaps that's why I've remembered. Some days
later he took me to have my photo taken and I remember that occasion too. We
were having a look at the shop window displays on our way, and we came to a
big shop known as 'Tinker Smiths'. It was a hardware store, but one of its big
windows was full of dolls of all sizes, some of them beautifully dressed. One
in the centre attracted my attention, a gorgeous life-sized doll. I pulled on
Dad's hand impatiently. "Dad" said I, "I want that dolly!"
"Alright" said he,
"let's go and buy it."
Gee, I was on top of the world, and danced into the shop alongside him, thrilled
and excited. Imagine my dismay when he bought me a twopenny small wooden doll,
its face painted on it.
"Don't want it" said I, "I want the big one."
"That or nothing" said my Papa, and I wasn't very particular. The
photographer's was almost next door but I must have overcome my disappointment
and managed a smile. Became rather sceptical of adult methods and ways when
they told me watch carefully for the dickey-bird, which just wasn't there! Still
have a copy of that photograph.
In those days working conditions in factories were very poor, wages were low,
and people had to work long hours. My father was annoyed about this, and always
felt that the workers were being robbed of their just rewards. "You work the
greater part of your whole live", he would say to his mates, "just to earn enough
to go on working to make the bosses rich". When the men went on strike in order
to obtain better conditions, he was always busy organising, and leading the
way forward. Of course this often resulted in his being sacked, with difficulty
in finding another job. My mother suffered uncomplainingly, knowing full well
that her husband was doing his best to improve the lot of the workers, but she
became ill, owing to the lack of food and much worry. Her eyes became so inflamed
and swollen that she couldn't see, she was so weak and ill that she had to stay
in bed. This in the midst of a strike, and Dad felt that he must be there. He
attended to Mother and baby brother, and left them in bed, taking me with him.
He called at the doctor's surgery on the way, asking him to go nad see mother,
which was just as well, as it happens. Little Frank was safe enough while asleep,
but when he awoke, he wouldn't keep still, and wanted to go exploring. Mother
managed to keep hold of him for some time, finding it most difficult to do so,
not being able to see, and becoming so very tired, and he got away from her
grasp, crawling around the bed. She leaned quickly forward, spreading out her
arms to find him, but over he went on the floor. He wasn't hurt and quickly
crawled away, much to mother's consternation. She was trying to find him before
he got to the bedroom door, for she was afraid he would fall downstairs, when
the doctor came in and saved the situation. He was very much concerned over
mother's condition and asked "When did you have your last meal?" He then went
to see my grandmother, and told her she'd better look after her daughter. In
the meantime my grandfather happened to be walking along our street. He didn't
usually come in to see us, as he and my mother had quarreled before her marriage.
He evidently didn't approve of her choice of a husband, and wanted her to marry
someone else whom he considered to be more stable. Passing along he heard mother's
groans, and when he realised the sounds came from our place, went in to investigate.
Som mother was taken to her old home and cared for until she recovered, and
the old quarrel was healed as well. I can't remember what happened about the
strike. There were many more after that, and conditions gradually improved.
