Alan, 76, is a Retired, active, member of Plymouth Writers Group and Plymouth Playwriters Group. Here he shares his wartime childhood memories, the struggle of not knowing his father and how these experiences shaped his writing career.
“I was born in Croydon, South London in May 1941. My mother worked in an armaments
factory, and my father, Jack, came to the UK at the beginning of the 2nd World War, as part of the Canadian Armed Forces. We were not evacuated, so my earliest memories are living with Nan and Grandad whilst Mum was away.
Croydon took quite a lot of hits during the Blitz as we had a military airport some 3 miles away. Grandad was gassed in the WW1 trenches and was always coughing, whilst Nan always seemed to be ill. I never knew my father. I have a memory of being lifted up into the air by a large uniformed man, but that is it. He went to the Normandy landings in 1944 and subsequently went back to Canada, was discharged, and then rejoined the Canadian Air Force about 1949. My earliest memories of a male figure, apart from Grandad, was a man (Phil) who came to see me with my mother. I went to stay with them for a short while, and then eventually we all lived in two rooms and shared a bathroom/WC with eight other flatlets. By 1950 my mother had two children by Phil, and her younger sister now 15, was also living with us. We shared one bedroom with four of us in one bed, and Mum and Phil in the other.
That year we moved to a brand new post-war Council estate some 6 miles outside of Croydon, on the edge of the fields, no pavements, a couple of shops and an infant and junior school. Heaven!! I was the only child on the brand new estate to pass the 11 plus exam and was offered a place at two prestigious Grammar Schools, one of which (Dulwich College) was over 10 miles away, the other was in Croydon, which is the one I chose. It meant leaving home at 07:30, catching two buses, and then walking.
My mother managed to get a grant for my uniform, my Headmaster bought me a pair of white canvas gym shoes from Woolworths and on day one, I finally arrived at this posh place, wearing a blazer and quartered cap. Waiting outside the school were a bunch of large boys all dressed in Grammar School uniform. As I passed through their ranks, they tore the pockets off my blazer and smashed my cap down onto the spiked railings. This was a school ritual known to all but tacitly ignored by the Headmaster. That is until my mother turned up at school the next day and demanded that they replace my uniform as there were no more grants available until next year. From day one my card was marked. What made it worse, was on getting home again late at night, my former mates from the Council school beat me up for being a “snob” wearing the same uniform. Couldn’t win.
That year, I found a handbag of my mother’s in a cupboard and realised that my father was Jack a Canadian serviceman and that Phil was just a man who was kind to me. Subsequently, I joined the Armed Forces myself, having dropped out of Grammar School at 15 as I simply couldn’t cope with the snobbery, ritual and regime of the school.
Prior to joining, I spent a year as a trainee journalist with the South London press group, then my mother decided to move again, making it impossible to get to work. My writing career first began with court reporting at Lambeth Court and progressed when I was part of the secretariat in the RN, involved in the production of operational orders and suchlike.
On 3 occasions in the next 30 years, I tracked Jack down in Canada, but each time, my letters were returned. He died in 2005, aged 86. Three years later I found a much younger half-sister living in Canada, totally unaware of my existence. She came to the UK in 2009 and stayed with my family, bringing my father’s war medals for me to keep.
I began writing seriously in 2000 through a night school option. Since then I have written in excess of 300 pieces, prose, poetry, radio, stage and screenplays and won regional newspaper competitions for a record 3 consecutive years. My first collection (Short Stories for Longer Journeys) was published by AuthorHouse, and is now in libraries in the USA, Canada and throughout the UK. In 2015 my play (School Crossing) was produced at the Theatre Royal, Plymouth a premiere venue in the South West. In December several of my short plays and sketches will be produced in the main Theatre Bar of Plymouth.
To this day, some of my writings reflect my earlier difficult life. ‘Wearing the Quartered Cap’ is in the collection - day one at the senior school. I still have feelings of anger, guilt and despair that my father was not willing to “know” me. I wrote a poem “Who Was The Hero” to capture those feelings, but the pain remains. However, my writing career has progressed, and is the subject of another story.”