Blog from the Past
My dear children, it's November 13th 2009 and I'm 65 today. I never thought I'd make it, but I'm truly grateful that I have. For one thing, it has now provided me with the opportunity to tell you about the life I have had and the times in which I have lived, both the good and the bad bits. Isn't this a little presumptuous to think that anyone will want to read about this? After all, I have achieved neither fame nor fortune. However, I am aware of not knowing a great deal about the lives of my Mother or Father before I was born, and there is a little part of me that wishes I had had that opportunity to understand a little more about who these people were that made me.
If I can impart a little interest or even entertainment to those who carry my blood or even those not even related, it will have been worthwhile. I have chosen this medium because of a professional and personal interest in matters related to the Internet and computers, so hopefully somehow it can be made to exist for a while in various forms. It will hopefully remain related to the other aspects of family history, which have been collected in recent years and contained within the Jenkins-of-Ewelme web site.
What did you do in the War Daddy?
Well, I guess I was probably a replacement for some poor
chap who had had no choice but to lay down his life in the name of
continued freedom. Thankfully, so far that has proved to be the
case. I was born in the latter months of the second world war on
13th November 1944 in a 'cottage hospital' in the small town of
Wellington in the country county of Somerset. My birth certificate says that I lived in
Haberdasher's Cottage, Langley, Wiveliscombe, Somerset, and both the
area and the name of the cottage held a profound significance in my
forthcoming life.
Apparently, I was christened in a 'tin' church as
Christopher Glyn? Jenkins, which I
recently discovered still exists as a well maintained corrugated
iron chapel, located practically opposite to where we lived. I, of course,
have absolutely no memory of this initial period of my being,
although I am convinced that some unconscious experience of 'the
country' rubbed off on me to produce a preference for open
countryside as opposed to town living . Indeed, my first memory (I
think!), is well and truly stored as sitting on a potty in front of
my mother's mirrored wardrobe in our house in Highgate, with a
realization that the image was actually ME! The semi-detached, three
bedroom house was situated at 36, Fordington Road, Highgate, N6. I
was unaware for some considerable time that this was in fact a
suburb of London. The road outside our house was quiet with rows of
other semi-detached houses opposite, as it was basically a go
nowhere crescent as far as traffic was concerned. Nearby, in the
corner of a right angled bend in the road was a gated path that led
to 'Cherry Tree Woods', which my father oft referred to as 'The
Spinney'. This was the playground of my early youth, where I learned
how to ride a bike, play putting and tennis, and enjoy the ice cream
related delights of The Kiosk. It was also the pathway to East
Finchley, and my later attended infant and junior school beyond.
Opposite the far exit of the woods was East Finchley Underground
station, where from High Barnet at the start of the Northern Line to
just after East Finchley travelling South towards central London,
was actually all overground!
It was the sound of tube trains disappearing into the tunnel at the
far end of Cherry Tree Woods, like the gurgling disappearance of a
sink of vortexing water, that was to be the familiar sound of 'home'
until I was 11. Not entirely strangely, I called this 'the train
going down the drain'. However, another of my earliest memories was
so profound that I believe it had an unconscious effect on my
earlier, and who knows, later development as a boy. This occurred
when my mother Vera had some serious internal health problems, I
think due to my birth, resulting in, as far as I can understand,
serious infection leading to or as the result of a hysterectomy.
This was obviously a blow to the whole family, where in those days,
there was no consideration of the head of the family being given
compassionate leave from work, but an expectation following those
war years, where men were away doing their duty, that the wider
family would somehow pull together to help out in such
circumstances. Arthur was 'Daddy' and was a financial
journalist in the City. Sister Barbara (Babs) was 10 years
older and Elizabeth (Beth, then later Liz) was 5 years older. I
think Liz went to stay with the Spice's, my mother's sister's
family, and as far as Barbara's recollections, was old enough to
stay at home and looked after my father. All I can recollect is
being in unfamiliar places, inhabited by unfamiliar faces. I think I
must have been taken initially to my Auntie Maisie's house in Ealing.
Auntie Maisie and Uncle Toc didn't have children of their own, so I
don't remember much about their presence. What I do remember, is
living with the Hill family, who were friends of Maisie. I must have
been quite young, because I do recall eating baby food that tasted
different to that I was used to. Like a lamb who had lost its
mother, I found it strange and frightening being in an
environment of strangers, the two daughters just like the the mother
Nora, had rather flat faces! "I want MY Mummy!" I guess the height
of trauma, was having what seemed like a rare visit by my father and
Beth one Sunday I think, either at the Hill's or at Auntie Maisie's.
I was highly relieved to see them, especially Beth, but they left me
there again. "Daddy, Daddy, I want to come home with you!!" (Have I
raised a tear yet? Oh good, so it should).
Wait for the next exciting installment!