Day One to 1st day at school

Preface

Born: - Stephen David Phillips. Date: - 11th June 1954. Time: - daytime. Weight: - enormous! Place: - Elizabeth Garrett Andersons Hospital Hampstead London.

Mother: - Eva Gladys Kilbourn. Father: - Francis George Thomas Phillips. Mother worked in a department store. Father a sailor in the Royal Navy.

Before the big bang: -

Mum and Dad lived only a short distance from each other in North London. Mum lived in a block of flats, Sutton Dwellings off of Upper Street, Islington. She worked for the local Co-operative store, in Upper Street, opposite the old Odeon Cinema. She worked in the accounts dept and as a Sales Assistant. Dad was in the Royal Navy where he had been since joining as a boy seaman in 1945 aged 15, at the end of the 2nd World War. They became pen pals whilst Dad was in the Far East. When he returned from his tour of duty in Hong Kong, Indo China and Singapore around Christmas 1952. They met, must have fell in love, and decided to get married. Dad was stationed at HMS Pembroke in Chatham where he was in training for the guard at the Coronation of Queen Elizabeth II; he would be standing outside Buckingham Palace.

Mum and Dad were married on the 4th April 1953 at the Holy Trinity Church, Bansbury in Islington. It was a full-blown affair of 70 odd guests. Mum wore a full white wedding gown and Dad was in his full naval uniform. The wedding was followed by a large reception at the local Conservative club. My grandfather who was a chef in a London Hotel at the time baked the 3-tier wedding cake. They went off for a couple of days honeymoon in Great Yarmouth as Dad had to return to training for the Coronation in June 1953.

Mum returned to work after the wedding, where she stayed until my Dad's next posting. In July 1953 after the Coronation my Dad was transferred to HMS Glory a light fleet aircraft carrier and sailed from Portsmouth to Roseyth naval base in Scotland, where the ship went in for a refit for a couple of months. My Mum went up to Scotland to stay with him. They stayed in digs with a Lady called Mrs. Hackett at 10 Craig Street, Roseyth near Edinburgh, a small terraced house. The result of the Scottish air and clean living is now writing this piece. (The closest I came to being born Scottish). My Mum loved Scotland and wanted to stay on after my Dad went back to sea; but it was not to be. Dad sailed in late October 1953 when his ship went off to Malta and on a tour of the Mediterranean.

My Mum returned to London and back to work, it was then she found out she was pregnant. Both Mum and Dad (when he was at home) lived at 40 Thornhill Road Islington in North London. They lived with my Grandfather William George Thomas and my Grandmother Dorothy, my Dad's parents. They lived in an old Victorian house that had been split into two flats. (The house has long since pulled down to make way for new houses). It was very much a working class area in the 50s. Thornhill Road, Barnsbury Street and Square, Upper Street, with its old fashioned shops, these shops have all changed now. It is now very much upmarket, with pavement café’s, boutiques etc. These shops and houses now fetch a fortune when they are sold.

Dad returned to England in April 1954 to duty at Portsmouth dockyard awaiting his next posting. Mum had finished work as I had grown so big and was awaiting the big event. Dad was home on leave the weekend before I was born but it was a false alarm and returned to duty at Portsmouth navel base.

So now our story really begins

Mum was admitted to a subsidiary of Elizabeth Garrett Anderson’s hospital in Hampstead, and on the 11th June 1954 the big day finally arrived. I have no idea how long my poor mother was in labour but I should imagine an 11 pound baby was a bit of a problem for a 1st child. Dad was on duty at Portsmouth and I think I gave him a bit of a turn as well. Monster bonce was the phrase I think he used to his mates. I became a bit of a celebrity at the hospital because in those days a baby of my size was pretty unusual. The nurses all used to come round and pick me up and show me off. "Let’s go and see the sailor’s big baby boy". (Pity I have not had that amount of luck with the ladies ever since). I felt sorry for my poor grandmother she had spent months knitting all these little gloves and booties but none of them fitted. I had the most enormous hands and feet. (Actually I still do).

After the birth

Dad had now been stationed @ HMS Pembroke in Chatham on reserve fleet awaiting his next posting. Mum returned to Thornhill Road to live with my Nan and Grandad. It wasn’t that easy for my Mum living in small accommodation and with my Dad away so much, but they had to manage as they couldn’t afford a place of their own. I became unwell soon after I was born, with sickness and high temperatures, so much so that after several visits to the doctors I was admitted to Elizabeth Garrett Andersons Hospital in September 1954 where I stayed for the next 3 months. As it turns out I had contacted a malaria type germ from my father, he had passed through my Mother and although it had not affected her, I had caught it. My Dad had been in Hospital for several weeks himself in the Far East with yellow fever and another virus. (Both my brother and sister had it to a lesser degree when they were born). The Hospital never really did find out exactly what the actual germ was but were convinced that I had only survived because I was so big. My Dad says that I never had so much as the common cold until I was about 8 years old; they had used so many different new anti-biotics. They also used to cut the bottoms of my feet to take blood samples. Dad had been allowed to stay at Chatham throughout this period the Navy had not posted him back to sea. It must have been a pretty terrible time for my parents with daily trips across London to see me. Luckily I don’t remember anything about it.

I came out of Hospital just before Christmas 1954. The family went back to Thornhill Road but the strain of the last few months had taken their toll. Both the situation with my illness, and the fact that my Mum was unhappy living with my Grandparents forced my Dad into a decision. He decided to leave the Navy and look for a new career, although he remained in naval reserve for the next 8 years. Dad had wanted to join the City of London Police, but unfortunately in those days you had to be over 6 feet tall. My Dad was only 5ft 10ins. But he was offered a job as a Policeman in the Essex Police stationed at Grays. It came with a tied police house that suited my Mum.

Grays 1955

So in 1955 we moved to 176 Orset Street Grays and then onto 60 Stanley Road the promised police house, and the first house my Mum and Dad had together. I only remember snippets of life at Grays. Most of the stories have been recited at family gatherings so I’m sure have distorted and changed over the years. Some of the more realistic stories are as follows.

The ceiling in the dinning room at Stanley Road fell in on me one day, as I was sitting in my high chair eating my breakfast. My Mum said that the only thing that spooked me was that bits of plaster got into my egg and on my soldiers, which I was unhappy about.

I also picked up a hot fire poker when my Dad was putting coal on the fire one morning. A trip to the Hospital was required and a strange looking dolly on the end of my arm was the result.

Once I had started to walk I tripped over the step between the dining room and the back scullery. I put my 2 front teeth through my bottom lip and my Mum couldn’t get them out, another trip to the hospital. It was winter time and snowing outside. I left a trail of little blood dots in the snow.

My Uncle Tom, my Mums brother was in the Merchant Navy as a chef and worked out of Tilbury. His ships were going across to Holland and Scandinavia and quite often we used to see him on his ship either arriving, (when he would come and see us) or leaving for far away places.

Dad found it hard to settle into life after the Navy. I suppose when you have known nothing else since you were 15 it’s going to be difficult to adjust to a new life. In 1957 he left the Police Force after being offered a job at the Shell oil refinery at Shell haven. The money was more than what he was getting in the Police, but unfortunately our house went with the job, and Mum and I moved back to London with my Grandparents.

Back in London 1957

I don’t remember it being an unhappy time, but my Mum couldn’t have liked it much with my Dad working long hours and having to live back in London. I do have some memories of the time in London. The house in Thornhill Road had mice which my Gran hated and used to set traps for them. I remember getting up one evening when I was quite small, going into the Kitchen and finding my Grandad sitting on the floor feeding them. He used to set off the traps after my Gran went to bed. He made me promise not to tell, and I could sit with him and feed them. I never did tell my Gran but she used to wonder how she never caught any mice though.

I used to go to Leather Lane market with my parents. There was a toyshop called Solly’s. He used to get all the latest toys from fairs most were one of a kind. I started my collection of toy cars from his shop. I was brought my full sized toy car from Solly’s. Once you got in; it had most of the same things a proper car would have. Steering wheel, peddles to make it go, a radio that played several tunes, and indicators that came out of the side. No day out was complete without a trip to Solly’s.

My Uncle Tom had brought me my first bike. (See picture - moody and magnificent). It was called a Gresham Flyer. A bike was deep Maroon in colour with a flag on the front mudguard. It had a box on the back to put all your important bits in like, comics, sweets, drinks etc. It also had an extending handle at the back so you could be kept in check by whoever was looking after you.

My Grandad used to take me out at weekends (I was on my bike, He used to walk). We would go for miles, sometimes down to the Embankment and walk along the Thames. Other times we would go down through the City of London. Grand dad would also take us on bus rides to the Museums at Kensington, or the old bedlam, the war museum at Elephant and Castle. He had been an ARP (fireman) in London during the war, and used to tell me stories of all the things that had gone on.

I enjoyed what I remember of these times but things were about to change again. Dad had changed his job again in Late 1958. He had taken a job as a Security Officer for a company called John Mowlem’s a large construction and building firm based in Welham Green, Hertfordshire. (They later moved the original London Bridge brick by brick to America). He had taken the job because of the relocation programme to move families out of poor living conditions in London. The government were building new garden cities and towns in the countryside around London. Towns like Welwyn Garden City – Hatfield – Stevenage and the first garden city Letchworth. My Mum wanted her own home again and this was the best way to achieve this aim. In the beginning my Dad was doing the daily commute in the opposite direction to most people. He would cycle down to Highbury, catch a train to Hatfield and then cycle to Welham Green for a 12-hour shift and then return to London. Hatfield was a very different place in 1958 to what it is today. Then to most people from London it was the middle of the country. I was moving to the country.

Hatfield 1958

So in March 1959 the family moved to Hatfield in Hertfordshire, all 25 miles from London but to me the middle of the country. We were given a small 2 bed roomed house 10 Oak Grove. It was a terraced house built a couple of years before by the local council. Hatfield was very spacious after London, with trees, large greens and squares. It was also very quiet after the hustle and bustle. The house had both large front and rear gardens surrounded by hedges, with a concrete path leading down to the house. In London we had only had a very small walled yard full of rubble and weeds, so this was heaven for a small energetic boy.

Opposite our house was what we used to call the dell. A huge hole in the ground surrounded by trees. At the bottom was a swing frame for the local children. They all said that a bomb had caused the hole during the war, but I wasn’t so sure. I wasn’t allowed to play down there at first, but after a while so long as my Mum was watching I could go.

Oak Grove was what is now called a typical suburban street, with verges and lay byes. Some of the houses lay back from the road and there were small grassy areas in front of them where the children could play. It was a very safe environment in those days. The road swept round in a half moon shape and the far end of the street rose sharply up a hill. Within a quarter of a mile was the local shops called the Cavendish.

In June 1959 I had turned 5 years old. Time for school. I had been baptised Church of England, but Mum wanted to send me to the local Catholic School, Blessed Philip Howard, run by the Sisters of Mercy. Part of the deal would be that I practise the faith. A lot of palaver I thought, it didn’t mean that much to me as a 5 year old. I didn’t see the point of going to school anyway. I was quite a bright child; I could read and write and had learnt a great deal from my trips to the museums.

But to school I must go, and in September 1959 I started at Blessed Philip Howard, Bishops Rise, Hatfield. The School was newly built and consisted of 7 classrooms, large hall, and the Canteen. Mum and Dad came with me on my first day at school, Dad in his Commissionaires uniform. [All the other children kept asking if he was a policeman]. My classroom was called St.John's. My teachers name was Miss Hoyle, a lovely large lady that when I first saw her had children hanging off her. I went into my new classroom found a book from the library, sat down and started to read. I think Mum and Dad were quite upset as they had been dismissed. The other children were crying, hanging onto their parents or Miss Hoyle, but I was more interested in reading.

School days had begun.