School after the War

The Diaries of Russell James Sparrow 1908 to 1991

1918

We returned to Ipswich just before the end of the war and I went back to Springfield school and after a few weeks sat an examination for entrance to the “Muni”, i.e. Ipswich Municipal Secondary School for Boys (now Northgate) in Tower Ramparts just above the Cornhill. I was successful enough to gain entry on half-fees and started there in 1918 in form Transition. My particular pal at school was Bert Garrod a farmer’s son from Copt Hall, Bildeston and I spent part of one summer holiday with them on the farm. He had two older brothers, Willie and Jack, also at the school and the three of them used to live during the week with Mr and Mrs Boar, a funny old couple who kept a chandlers shop in Bramford Road. We used to keep his door knocker in working order by remote control i.e. a piece of string taken through the hedge and round the corner. My weekend pals were Vic Thread Kell, who later joined the navy as a boy, was commissioned and killed during the war at sea, Alan Crane who became a Baptist Missionary, and Ken Nurse whose father was Manager of the local Co-op where they lived in a flat above the shop. He had a sister Phyllis who was a bit of a goer!

We formed a football team called Surbiton Road Rovers and played our matches on Saturday mornings in one of the parks, mostly Christchurch. We would take ourselves off on hikes into the country, which at that time was close by because there was hardly a building the other side of the railway bridges in Bramford Road and Bramford Lane. One of our favourite jaunts was to the slaughterhouse at Sproughton where we would sneak up and peep through the crack in the doors and watch the slaughter of pigs, sheep and bullocks. Blood thirsty little so and sos! Those were the days when you could play games in the road without fear of being run over unless by a horse or a cycle. Spinning tops, bowling hoops and ‘tip

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The Diaries of Russell James Sparrow 1908 to 1991

cat’ where you knocked a piece of wood into the air and then with a stick hit it as far as you could as it came down. The favourite was wall walking in a narrow passageway between houses with your feet on one wall and your back on the other.

As a very small boy before the war Dad would take me with him to Stoke bathing place on Sunday mornings and the Muni was noted for the importance it placed on boys being able to swim and Stoke was the place of learning. During the school holidays we went to West End bathing place just off the Bramford Road. It was a good policy to be a swimmer before you went there because anyone shivering on the brink was soon in, irrespective!

A lot of my spare time was spent at the Neobards ‘helping’ in the bakehouse and going with Don the roundsman in the pony and cart to deliver the bread and then helping to brush and bed down the pony on our return. At one time they had a donkey which got onto the bakehouse and ate a batch of dough. When it was discovered it was swollen so much that it was impossible to get it out of the door. They eventually got it out by deflating the stomach. School was never one of my favourite pastimes but nevertheless I managed to progress each year and I was ‘Le champion’ in the eyes of the French master M. Charles, a powerful bearded froggie with hypnotic eyes and a wonderful knowledge of English swear words which he used frequently. He would display his strength by placing a full hod of coal on one end of a window pole, grasp the other end in one hand and then at arms length raise the hod off the floor, and you had to be mighty strong to do that. The cane and I were more than nodding acquaintances and on one occasion two of us, both Russells, were coshed for some misdemeanour and during the course of the operation the other Russell’s fingers split open and he fainted causing a real kerfuffle.

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The Diaries of Russell James Sparrow 1908 to 1991

Turning to more enjoyable things I can remember seeing ‘The Quaker Girl’ and ‘The Maid of the Mountains’ at the Lyceum Theatre (the conductor of the orchestra Mr Kevin Taylor was my piano teacher) and pantomimes, revues and variety shows at the Hippodrome where Mother and Dad would go with Mr and Mrs Larter who kept a small shop in Delwyn Street, he was a carpenter. They had a son Fred and a daughter Dorothy and shortly after I learned to ride a bike but not owning one, Dorothy cycled round to visit Mother leaving her machine leaning against the wall outside our house. Now who could resist a temptation like that? After a short ride down the street the chain came off and to replace a chain on a lady’s bike was a tiresome and intricate exercise entailing the removal and replacement of a complete casing enclosing the chain, and a fan shape affair called a dress guard which consisted of numerous fine ends going from the back hub up to the mudguard. However after a struggle I succeeded in replacing the greasy chain and other paraphernalia (but not as the makers intended) and deemed it wiser to push the bike back to its parking place, and then held on watching briefly to make sure that Dorothy was able to ride away. She did and all was well, until in the middle of our tea, Dorothy returned, and all was not well – the cycle was O.K. but on the sit me down part of her white dress were the perfect impressions, in cycle grease, of a nasty little boys hands which had been placed on the saddle during the manoeuvres. I joined the 11th Ipswich Boy Scouts, went to camp, won a few badges and helped them, as a patient, win the Ipswich Ambulance Cup. Our Scout Master was Len Robinson who kept goal for the Town.

Holidays were spent at Stowmarket or Onehouse, although when Dad was general manager for Maples, Mother and I spent several weeks in Carshalton, Surrey and again in Higham, Essex where in each case the jobs concerned were the restoration of Tudor country houses. We must have had one lengthy stay in Stowmarket

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The Diaries of Russell James Sparrow 1908 to 1991

because I remember going to school there. It must have been at a time when Mother was helping Auntie Alice nurse their mother. At that time they lived in a small cottage on Stowupland Street next door to a baker’s shop kept by the Misses Rozier, and during the night you could here the chirping of the crickets as they made their way to the warmth of the bakehouse.

Until now I hadn’t realised how much bakery featured in my early life. Living over one in Scotland, helping in one in Ipswich and staying next door to one in Stowmarket. A lot of my time in Stow was spent with my cousins in the fruit shop in the Market Place where the living accommodation was at the back and over. We had some lovely parties there at Christmas and for birthdays. Jack was about my age and we formed a team helping Uncle Sam to clean vegetables, to clean out the stable etc. One Saturday Uncle Sam was very busy and he told Jack that he would have to do the delivery round and I could go with him to help. If we did the job well and got back in good time he would give us the money to go and see the Christy Minstrels who were performing at the Crown Hall that night. We made good time, speeding up the progress of the horse with a little persuasion from the whip and on the home straight which was round the corner by the church to the stable behind The Rose, we were flat out with Jack standing up and flicking his whip and me hanging on for dear life, when suddenly Bang! And the next thing I remember was lying on the ground looking up at the horse’s belly! The back wheel of the cart had caught the iron railings outside the church and the contents of the cart were scattered far and wide, and the harness was a write-off. We picked ourselves up, collected the bits and pieces, made our way to the stables, baited and bedded the horse and wended our way home determined to keep quiet until we had seen the Minstrels. We did this but the next morning --!!! The bent railings stayed that way until they were taken down for scrap during the war. We would also visit the Smiths, Dad’s sister Eva and her husband Ollie and their

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