On the 25th February 1963 I got up early for an exciting event, exciting to me anyway, it meant nothing to Edna. Overnight there had been a big boxing match in Miami, America. Cassius Clay as he was then known was challenging Sonny Liston for the world heavyweight championship. The BBC was going to screen it at 7am on TV. I didn’t turn the radio on and watched the sensation that unfolded with Clay winning in the 6th round. After the fight Clay announced he had changed his name to Muhammad Ali.

In spring we set off for a holiday to Newquay in Wales. I remember having seat belts fitted to the car before we set out. They had only recently been made available and were not yet compulsory. They were like a parachute harness in which you slid both your arms. We chugged along, my maximum speed was no more than 40 mph so the journey took ages and finally we arrived there late afternoon. That would have been our first trip through Shrewsbury, I can remember now going round the island near Meole Brace and driving up past the Brooklands Hotel to go up the Roman Road. We liked Newquay and had a good time; we stayed in a small-whitewashed cottage on a hill just outside the town. By this time Edna was harbouring a thought that she hadn’t yet discussed with me. The first night we got there we started to get ready for bed. She suddenly brought out of her suitcase a brand new white nightdress. I think it was appropriately called a baby doll dress. She said, “ I thought I might tempt you, it’s time we started another.” What a waste of money, I didn’t need any tempting!

One big event occurred for me in 1963, I went to Wembley for the first time. A coach was filled from County Hall one Wednesday afternoon in October. England against a team called the “Rest of the World” to celebrate the centenary of the Football Association. A crowd of 100,000 turned up to watch an England side pit their skills against the best in the world, including Puskas, Di Stefano and many others. It was a football feast and I for one thought it was brilliant, hardly a surprise.

A terrible event occurred on the 23rd November when a gunman in Dallas, Texas assassinated the American President John Kennedy. Such great hopes worldwide were pinned on that one man at a time of the “Cold War.” I have read that time stood still when people heard the news and the exact moment was never forgotten. That was certainly the case with me. I would probably have never remembered that on that evening I would be attending an evening course on car maintenance run by a Mr. Judson at a local school and we had been discussing the clutch and it’s problems. Why all that has stuck in my memory I don’t know. When I got back home Edna had heard the news and told me immediately and I sank into a chair in disbelief. The world suddenly seemed a more dangerous place. Vice President Lyndon Johnson was later sworn in as the new president.

After Emma we never seemed to have a problem once the decision was taken to try for another baby. I suppose we were lucky in that respect, it didn’t seem to take very long either before a bull’s eye was scored. Sure enough Edna was able to confirm that number two was on its way a few weeks later. We were both very pleased, Emma would have a friend, that’s what we hoped and thankfully after a shaky start that’s what happened. A very young Deborah Ann came into the world on the 14th February 1964. This time the birth was very easy, she was so eager to get out. I remember sitting in the dining room eating cornflakes reading the paper while Edna did the business, again around 10pm. At this time I still didn’t have the nerve to be present, reading the paper appealed rather more. Once Edna had started in labour we arranged for our friends John and Margaret Hague to pick Emma up and take her to their house. In the end, she ended up staying the night with them, which must have come as a shock to her. They brought her home the next morning. It was a very cross little madam who walked into the bedroom to find mummy holding a little baby, that didn’t help things one bit! In hindsight she should have stayed at home and it took a few days for her to accept the new situation. It was soon obvious that Debbie was a calm smiler, that was really good news, less trouble all round.

In the following February a problem began that was to last a very long time and have an impact on my life. I had had a pretty strenuous weekend, playing football on the Saturday and some heavy digging in the garden the following day. On the Monday morning I woke up to find my back had seized up and literally I couldn’t move. That was the beginning of many years of disc problems and was also the end of playing football regularly. Edna told me later she got worried visualising having to look after me as well as two kids. It wore off after a few days and I simply had to learn to live with it.

We met a new member of the family around this time. Eric, Edna’s younger brother rang to say he would be calling in to enable us to meet his girlfriend. They had been on a camping holiday in Scotland and would stop on the way back home. They arrived late one afternoon and we were introduced to Celia Lane who two years later became Celia Barrett. Celia had been at Leamington College for Girls at the same time as Edna but two years below. Celia told me recently that Edna was a very studious girl at school, apparently she was known as “The Professor.” When we first met Celia said she felt a wreck with her hair an absolute mess after the camping. I can’t say I have never noticed Celia looking like a wreck at all and thought she looked fine. Eric had done well!

During the first week of June in 1964 several of us got into a spot of trouble in the office. I mentioned earlier that you could see the wicket on the Trent Bridge Cricket ground from the drawing office. It was a sunny day and England was playing Australia in a Test match. It was a bit distracting, I had the choice of concentrating on Ted Dexter batting or that particularly difficult drainage layout I was struggling with. There wasn’t any competition really. We had a long balcony outside our windows with access to it from some French windows. It was very hot in the office and somebody suggested having ten minutes on the balcony to watch a bit of the cricket, a few of us trooped out, cup of tea in hand. A few moments later unknown to us the TV cameras at the cricket ground panned around picking up County Hall. Richie Benaud was commentating and he muttered something about “the workers up there must be having a late lunch.” The next day there was a mention of this in the Nottingham Evening Post. Oh dear! An inquest was held in the office, and the suspects were hauled up in front of Dan for a telling off. At least he didn’t have a cane like Mr. Gibson.

In the early summer of 1964 I was considering moving on from Nottingham. I now had some experience behind me and the theory at the time was to try different offices. A second consortium of local authorities had recently been formed and was producing buildings using the SCOLA system. Guess where the initials came from? I decided to apply to Shropshire County Architects department who had been instrumental in setting it up. I wrote a letter outlining my experience and asking had they any vacancies. I was invited for an interview towards the end of June. The office was based in Shrewsbury and on arrival I liked the look of the town immediately. Built around a loop in the river Severn it had a pleasant scale compared with the cities of Nottingham and Sheffield. The County Architects Department was close to Lord Hill’s Column, a major landmark in the town on the London Road. A new Shire Hall building was under construction on the other side of the road. The office turned out to be a small Victorian building called “Column House” with rows of temporary huts behind. Ralph Crowe the County architect and Geoff Hamlyn his deputy interviewed me. It seemed to go well and they offered me a post subject to clearing it with a committee. It seemed the approved establishment was full and they had to get approval to increase it by one, presumably they wanted me because of my CLASP experience. The agreed salary would be £1,565 per annum, which was double what I started on at Notts four years earlier. I was quite happy when I drove back home. I intended to give it another three or four years in Shropshire and then move on. I didn’t realise on that journey back, we would put roots down and my stay there would be for the next thirty-three years.

In August 1961 we travelled over to stay with Mother and Dad in the shop for a couple of days. The news came through over the weekend that Berlin was now a divided City; troops from East Germany had sealed the border between East and West Berlin shutting off the escape route for thousands of refugees from the east. During the night six-foot fences topped by barbed wire was erected preventing access. Within days the fence was replaced by a concrete block wall, which became a permanent structure and a symbol of the political divide between the western nations and the Communist states. You couldn’t help wondering at the time where all this would eventually end, all out nuclear war?

Edna gave up teaching in early1962. She had been having a few problems and once fainted in the corner shop near to our house. Nevertheless this was a wonderful time for us both and she was very much looking forward to the birth scheduled for March. At Christmas we used to alternate between visiting the farm and going up to Lancashire, this time we stayed at home. I didn’t want to risk her perched on the back of a swaying scooter. Emma Jane Clarke entered the world in the evening on March 22nd. It wasn’t an easy birth. The midwife at one point asked me to go over the road and get the Doctor, the only useful thing I did all night. Emma was being awkward and couldn’t find the launch pad. Dr. Stevenson our Scottish doctor had to pull her out with forceps and thankfully everything was fine. We were delighted; I think I could safely say Edna was deliriously happy. I don’t think we got much sleep that night, Emma was pretty disturbed and no wonder. I have a copy of a telegram I sent over to my parents at 8-36am, the next morning. It read, “ Emma Jane born Thursday 10-15pm Grandads birthday (stop) weight 7lbs both well.” Yes, she had been born on my Dad’s birthday, which must have pleased him. Neither of us had a phone, so in those days a telegram was the only means of instant communication. The next day I was mowing the lawn when a neighbour walked by, “ Congratulations” he said, and then came out with that old saying, “You’re life will never be the same again.” How true it is!

Although we did not know it then Emma had been born at a very dangerous time and the facts were not made public for a few years. A drug called “ Thalidomide” had been available in the UK since 1958; it was used as a sedative and to alleviate morning sickness and it was estimated that worldwide some 8,000 women had taken the medication. It was taken off the market at the end of 1961 when the medical profession were becoming aware of the tragedy that was developing. The drug disrupted foetal development; babies were being born with terrible abnormalities and limbs missing.

Edna’s life had certainly changed; She was always making lists and schedules. How about this for a planned day, written in a notebook dated April 1962.

DAILY TIME TABLE.
7. 00 am. Feed and change Emma.
7. 45 am. Cook Bill’s breakfast.
8. 15 am. Wash and dress.
8. 45 am Wash and boil nappies.
10. 00 am Wash, iron, clean house.
11. 00 am. Wash, feed, change Emma.
11. 45 am Prepare dinner.
12. 15 pm. Iron nappies and air.
12. 45 pm. Arrange dinner.
1. 00 pm. Dinner and rest.
2. 00 pm. Walk to shop with Emma and Aggie
2. 30 pm. Relax and exercises.
3. 00 pm. Feed and change Emma.
3. 45 pm. Sleep.
4. 45 pm. Prepare tea.
6. 00 pm Bath, feed and change Emma.
6. 45 pm. Free.
11.00 pm. To bed.

What a merry time she was having. I bet she was glad when 11.00pm came and it appears Bill wasn’t even capable of getting his own breakfast. Edna did everything for Emma and that included all the changing of nappies during the night. Over the six kids we eventually had, I can’t remember once having to get up in the night, in fact I don’t think I ever changed a single nappy. Edna simply loved all aspects of her task; boy was I lucky!

During our Nottingham days we saw a lot of one of my old University friends, Stewart Doncaster and his wife Anne. Stewart got a job working for a firm of private architects, Bartlett and Gray. Their office was just round the corner from County Hall. They used to come round to Tollerton every Saturday evening to watch the new satire programme on our tiny little TV called, “That was the week that was,” with a newcomer called David Frost. We also tried to learn Bridge together, a game I never really got on with.

In the summer of 1962 we went on holiday with Keith and Janet Grantham to Hunstanton on the North Norfolk coast. We travelled over by coach to Kings Lynn and then caught a bus to Hunstanton. We stayed in a small timber chalet on the beach, the weather wasn’t too good and it was very cold at night. Emma was only five months old, I bet Edna was piling the blankets on her. We didn’t go very far, I recall endless games of cricket on the beach with Keith. Sadly after the holiday we saw very little of Janet and Keith again. I think they came over once to Shrewsbury a few years later with their two small sons and that was about it. I have had no contact with them for nearly forty years; it’s odd the way things work out. Two of my closest friends Frank and Keith I completely lost contact with for so many years. Only recently I have found out through Abdul that Janet and Keith later got divorced. At the moment I have no idea what happened to Keith. The last news I had he was working in Hong Kong in the early 1980’s.

Life was good at this time. Edna was happily settling down to life as a mother and I was getting to grips with learning the practicalities of being an architect. I had started to handle major contracts on my own. Ironically my first two jobs were fire stations, at Beeston and another at West Bridgeford. I really should have done that Fire Station for my thesis, there weren’t too many Reform Club clubs being designed by County Councils. Visits to both our families were regular events. Since having Emma we had to use public transport, Edna didn’t fancy holding onto Emma, sitting on the back of the scooter and clinging to me with her knees. We needed a car so I began to take lessons again; I remember the man giving the lessons wasn’t much older than me. He persisted in calling me “Chief.” I’ve been called many things but never that; he must have been a John Wayne fan! Whatever, he got me through at the first attempt. Edna asked her sister June if her boyfriend Les could get us a car. A few weeks later Les rang to say he had got one for us. It was a Ford Anglia. I can’t remember how old it was, but it cost £60. It proved to be a brilliant bargain, three years later I sold it for £35. Not bad, depreciation cost per year just over £8. One sad thing is I can’t remember at all what I did with the scooter. For four years it gave us both the ability to travel at minimum cost and we had some great times on it despite the constant mechanical problems. Unfortunately there was a big black cloud looming and our happy days were soon to be under threat from a most unexpected source, far away on an island off the American coast.

There was a major crisis in world affairs in October 1962. It is hard looking back now to those few weeks to remember how frightening it was at the time. The Cuban Missile Crisis was without doubt the most serious episode in the cold war and was probably its turning point. For two weeks from the 16th to 28th of October, the world was closer to nuclear war than it had ever been. The Americans had discovered that Russia had placed long-range nuclear rockets on Cuba aimed at cities in America. Kennedy the American President had given an ultimatum to Khrushchev to remove them; In the meantime a fleet of Russian ships were already at sea heading for Cuba with more material. The world held its breathe to see what would happen when the Russian ships met the American forces. We were listening anxiously to every news bulletin. If this all went wrong the consequences were unimaginable. I can close my eyes now and see the scene in our small dining room late one evening. Edna was doing some ironing; we had the radio on and in the next few hours the Russian ships were due to be intercepted. Emma was in a carrycot on the floor, I remember looking at them both wondering whether we would all be alive to see Emma’s first Christmas, the situation was that dangerous. The next morning when we heard the overnight news that the Russians had backed down their ships had turned round and were heading back home, the relief was enormous. By facing down the Russians without resorting to force first, there is no doubt John Kennedy had saved the world from a catastrophe. This life story would never have been written for a start. It was not known at the time that a secret deal had been worked out with Russia that in return for their withdrawal America withdrew all its Jupiter missiles from Turkey. This was only revealed years later.

Thankfully we did see that Christmas. I have only one photograph and it shows a chubby Emma sitting up on the floor by a laden tree with a big paper hat on. In her hand she is holding a Gollywog (a very politically incorrect name these days!) that Edna had knitted. Emma still has it, although the neck is very floppy after forty-three years. On Christmas Eve we had a few flakes of snow, little did we know what was in store. We were on the brink of what became known as, “The Big Freeze.” I have never experienced anything like it here and don’t suppose I ever will again. I have read that a winter that severe has a 250-year return rate and many records were broken. From the 28th December to 4th March temperatures never rose above freezing with repeated heavy snowfalls, the only time that happened in the 20th century. Records showed that the winter was the worst since 1740. You may gather from these statistics life was very difficult. Temperatures of -15 to –20 degrees were commonplace and roads and pavements were permanently covered in ice. At Eastbourne the sea was reported frozen to an extent of 100 yards offshore for a length of two miles. Getting to work was not easy and for Edna pushing Emma in our big pram walking along to the shop along Melton Road was a regular hazard. All professional sport was virtually abandoned during January and February. Eventually during the first week of March a slow thaw set in. We were glad of the warmth; our heating system had been totally inadequate to cope with those conditions.

We moved into 1 Bentinck Avenue, Tollerton, in February 1961. After the months in Hampden Street it was wonderful to have our own place. It was tiny really, and an awful lot of space went into a long corridor that went virtually down the middle. We had two bedrooms a dining room, lounge and kitchen and a freezing cold bathroom at the end of the corridor. The heating was a bit of a mess; a mix of fixed electric fires, a coke burner and an open coal fire. We coped and Edna I am sure was looking at it in a different light to me. She was looking at a nest! She had been teaching at the Luttrell School for nearly eighteen months but with the purchase of the bungalow other things were now on her mind, and in the autumn she told me with a delighted look that she was pregnant. Apparently we were not so quick at producing Emma as subsequent babies, she told Louise later that several times when she was hopeful, the period came and she cried.

Our neighbours were an elderly couple Mr and Mrs Fellowes in an adjoining bungalow and Mr and Mrs Potter in a semi on the other side. Mrs. Potter, who we called “ Pansy,” was well intentioned but liked to give advice very regularly which Edna hated. Another problem there was yet another yapping poodle, Mitzi reincarnated. I got on well with old man Fellowes, a genial character with a twinkle in his eye and a sharp sense of humour. When Edna stopped working later that year she made several good friends in the road. One of them still sends a Christmas card every year The Doctors surgery was virtually directly opposite our house on the corner with the main road. When the time for the birth came, he wouldn’t have far to walk, perhaps as well considering what happened. That summer we bought a dog, a Scottish terrier puppy called “Aggie”. Edna thought the world of her, although it was a bit mad. The postman was very wary having had the odd nip. There are several photos of Edna hugging the dog, good practice for all the hugging she was to give to babies over the next twenty years.

Edna was still in touch with her old friend from school Lorna. She was by now a Mrs Edwards having married Bob who was a policeman. We used to have occasional nights out together in Nottingham. I have this memory of going to a packed “Stork Club.” Clubbing was not normally our scene but it was a great night out.

During the summer I had to go back to Sheffield for my professional practice exam. This was always held one year after passing finals and until passing the practice exam. I could not be regarded as fully qualified. I can remember going into the main hall of the University at Western Bank to see a long table with about half a dozen elderly gentlemen, presumably the great and good of the Architectural world. I was asked questions on the experience I had gained over the year. It seemed to go well and I duly passed. I was now eligible to join the Royal Institute of British Architects and put the letters after my name. W.A.Clarke BA (Hons.Arch) ARIBA. I liked the sound of that. It seemed a long time since I had been sat on the roof with Dad at the age of fifteen when that man got out of his car carrying a roll of drawings.

I had always been interested in science fiction and tales of space travel. Flash Gordon had ignited that. In 1950 there was a series in the Sunday Express about a journey to the moon by rocket. I carefully cut the articles out and kept them in Dad’s books. In the early 1960’s when President Kennedy promised to have a man on the moon before 1970, I closely followed all the various stages of the developments. This included the Russian successes with Sputnik the first man-made satellite in 1957 and the Yuri Gagarin flight who was the first man in space. The American’s responded with the initial Redstone rocket flights followed by the manned Mercury and Gemini programmes. News of Gagarin’s flight came through on the 12th April 1961. I had just left work around 5-30pm and was walking across Trent Bridge towards the town centre when I heard a newsboy shouting, “Man in space.” I rushed over to by a newspaper and read all about it. That incident is worth a comment in itself, you don’t see lads selling newspapers on the streets nowadays. In the early 1960’s newspapers and radio were the main means of news communication. Television news was brief and the schedules rigid. There was none of the endless non-stop twenty-four hours news channels that fill the TV screens today. There were what was called “News theatres” this was a cinema totally dedicated to newsreel programmes like Pathe News. Every major city would have them they do not exist today. Three weeks later Al Shepard became the first American in space when he made a fifteen-minute flight perched on top of a Redstone rocket. We had a radio in the drawing office and stopped work to listen.

I made one bad decision that summer. We had booked a holiday in Cornwall; it was at Newquay and looked an idyllic spot. It was in a small pub down by the harbour, overlooking the sea. I rang them and sent off a letter enclosing a deposit, to secure the booking. At that time we also wanted to buy a Television, we hadn’t had one up to that point. After a few weeks agonising we pulled out of the holiday and spent the money on a small green, plastic faced 14inch TV. That was the last opportunity we would have for a holiday on our own for the next twenty-five years!

For most of her life Edna had pen friends. It started when she was nine and joined a club that provided names to write to. She started to write to a girl of the same age called Brenda from Skegness. This correspondence carried on until 2003 when Brenda sadly died. Over all those fifty-six years of correspondence they never met once. I remember one day we on the scooter near Skegness and I suggested we call in to see Brenda but Edna didn’t want to, it was almost as though an illusion would be shattered. They spoke on the telephone for the first time in 2000 after Edna had come out from a long stay in hospital. She also had several pen friends from abroad. In 1961 she invited a French girl to come and stay with us for a couple of weeks. I went down to London to meet her and bring her back to Nottingham on the train. It turned out that Mademoiselle was a very swish dish indeed. Heads were turning as we walked to the station in London. When I got back to the office I mentioned the fact she was staying with us. I suddenly became very popular and several of the lads were queuing up to be invited home. Dick Patterson made the most progress and took her out several times. I wasn’t sure what Edna made of all this, and she must have been glad when the time came for her to return home.

Around spring of 1960 Edna gave her notice in at school and began to apply for teaching jobs in the Nottingham area. A reference written by her Head teacher Mr. Wade was again using the adjectives “conscientious” and “very responsible.” I had already been offered the post at County Hall, so we were almost certainly going to live there. She was offered a job at the Luttrall School in Nottingham, another mixed comprehensive. Edna finally left the Bentinck School in July after two years as a teacher there. In later life she always looked back on those years with great fondness and pleasure. Inevitably there had been difficult times but she had learned so much and always remembered the staff and the children she had known.

In the summer of 1960, Keith and Janet were finally married and I was his best man. June and Les were also married that year at Priors Marston. Edna was a bridesmaid together with Josephine and Anne Carvell who was a good friend to both Edna and June. Anne remained in contact with Edna for the rest of her life. In 1961 we travelled over to Blackpool for the wedding of my old school pal Frank Coucill to Ruth. They had met in 1955 when Frank had a summer job working as a conductor on the trams on Blackpool sea front with my old school friends Alan Cockshaw, John Darlington and Jimmy Davies. Frank had been to Liverpool University to study Chemistry but had not completed the course and at that time he was trying to find a new career. Amazingly after the wedding I never saw Frank and Ruth again until we were reunited in 2003, I scratch my head now and wonder how that could have happened, bearing in mind they had continued to live in Bolton over all those years. Stewart and Anne Doncaster were also married and we attended. It seemed to be wedding bells all round for a couple of years.

6. 1960 to 1964 - Nottingham

Once I had qualified at Sheffield I wrote to Dan Lacey at County Hall, Nottingham and was formally offered a post starting in early August. The next problem was to find accommodation. I wrote to several estate agents and received lists of flats to rent. We couldn’t afford much, Edna was between jobs and I hadn’t started. We finally found a flat in Hampden Street, close to the City centre and next door to the School of Art. It was the usual large three-story Victorian house split up into flats. It was not brilliant; we had two rooms, a very large lounge with a sink and basic cooking facilities and a small bedroom off. Toilet and bathroom facilities were shared with other flats on the same level. In the first few days I saw some of the other tenants and my eyes opened slightly wider. I had my suspicions straight away. I know it was summer and the weather was hot but there were several middle aged ladies living there, who seemed to be competing for the shortest skirt and the thickest make up. I think there were four of them, plying their trade in the City. To think we were sharing toilet facilities with that lot, I was worried we might catch something. To be fair they never bothered us and were always very quiet when they came in. We considered moving on, but after a few weeks the two who were on our floor left, which solved the toilet concern. The two “girls” remaining upstairs we had little contact with. I bet Edna was glad about that, it must have been a situation that worried her.

I started at County Hall in the first week of August. I caught a bus in the centre to Trent Bridge. The Architects Department was on the top floor. It was quite a large office; there were five architects groups with about ten in each group. Other sections included, Quantity Surveyors, Services Engineers, Landscape Architects, Clerk of Works, Maintenance and a very large Administration pool. There must have been at least one hundred and fifty worked there. I was introduced to other members of my group. The leader was Eric Turner, tall and balding, always smiling he hid away in a glass cubicle. The two senior men were Dick Patterson and Alan Meikle, very different characters. Dick was smart and smooth, Alan, rough and tough. Both men became County Architects elsewhere in later years. The group’s main project was responsibility for the extensions to County Hall and I was to work on this for the next year. That first morning I got off to a crackling start. At that time I smoked a pipe, and after a couple of hours decided to light up. I filled it, lit it and then couldn’t see an ashtray, so I blew the match out and stuffed it back in the box. My blowing wasn’t that good, in no time the box had ignited with a bang and I was hopping around I could see the others looking at each other thinking what sort of idiot have we got here!

Very soon they gave me a small contract to do myself. It was some alterations in the basement of County Hall; I didn’t have far to go for a site meeting! At first those meetings were an ordeal, the Architect would chair the meeting and there were sometimes as many as twenty there, Contractors, Sub Contractors, engineers, Quantity surveyors etc. It was a bit nerve wracking but being pitched in at the deep end it soon became second nature. Over my working life I always said I was happiest being on a building site rather than in the office. Nottinghamshire County Council operated in a building system called “CLASP.” This was the abbreviation for, “Consortium of Local Authorities Special Programme.” Many other local authorities used the same system. I was not to know it in the early days but I eventually was to spend over twenty years designing system buildings. This was a mixed blessing, I became very proficient at managing and running several major contracts at once but decidedly weak on a knowledge of building construction. You didn’t have to think, all the details and assembly drawings were done for you in a large bound manual.

In November 1960 John F. Kennedy became the new President of the United States beating Vice-President Richard Nixon by a slim margin. Kennedy was only forty–three a Harvard graduate and war hero. He became the youngest elected president in US history and the first Roman Catholic. What has all that got to do with me you may ask? At the time I probably felt exactly the same and probably took little notice of this event. Two years later I was very glad of this man’s judgement during the Cuban missile crisis.

I frequently went on the site of the County Hall extension. I got to know the Clerk of Works well, a grey haired, wiry character called Frank Mee. In his site hut he had a large collection of girlie pictures, the really dubious ones were kept in the bottom drawer. The site foreman, Joe was the image of Arthur Askey, he and Frank together were like a comedy act. Dick Patterson was one of the main supervising Architects for the contract but Joe and Frank were always complaining they could never get hold of him to ask questions. One morning I went in very early to find Frank and several workmen bustling around in the Drawing office. They were moving Dick’s Drawing board, table, drawers, files, everything and reassembling it all on the first floor slab of the incomplete extension before he came in. “ Now we’ll be able to get hold of the bugger,” said Joe. When Dick finally arrived in the office, his jaw dropped when he saw all his stuff had disappeared. To his credit, he grinned and played along with it, spending the rest of the day working at his board on the open first floor slab with labourers working around him, they had even rigged up a phone for him. There were no windows in at that stage either.

The office had a thriving cricket team with regular fixtures; I was soon involved in that. The dashing Rex Goodwin, burly Alan Willis, dour Alan Goodman and jovial John Hague are a few of the players I can recall. All the games were played in the evening over twenty overs, and then the serious drinking began. The sports facilities were excellent, we had a large sports ground down Wilford Lane with cricket, football and tennis catered for. In the winter I turned out for the NALGO football team, playing in the local Nottingham league, surprisingly not all the players registered were County Council employees, nobody seemed to mind. Bearded Clive Trigg from the office was a tough tackling full back. We became good friends with Clive and his wife Chris and also with John and Margaret Hague. John lived at Keyworth not far from Tollerton, both Edna and I forged our baby-sitting skills at their house. John was a lively character who had a good line in impersonations of Tony Hancock. He claimed to be a demon bowler and rushed in with a slingy action, his few wisps of hair straggling across his perspiring brow, always looking suitably offended if he didn’t get a wicket every ball!

It was noisy living in Hampden Street; there was always some dispute, screaming and shouting going on outside throughout the night. Towards the end of 1960 we started looking around to see if we could afford a house and move. Lizzie came up with the generous offer that she would pay the deposit on a property for us, so we began to look seriously. We saw a small two bed-roomed bungalow at Tollerton, about six miles from County hall on the Melton Mowbray road. Bentinck Avenue was on a small estate, but the properties were not uniform and it was quite pleasant. The asking price was £2,200, which was a little more than our budget but we wanted it. Our offer was accepted and I put an application in for a mortgage. In the meantime I asked Bernard Sherwin from our Maintenance section to check it over for me. Bernard was quite an elderly man and had a very lugubrious manner. He rarely smiled and the world for him was a dark, dangerous place infested by death-watch beetle, dry rot, wet rot, broken drains, leaking roofs and subsidence. As we walked down the path he looked worried as usual. I could hear deep sighs as he stared at the shaky garden wall, the bad pointing on the garage and the rust appearing on the metal windows. The thing that made him happiest was when he could produce his pointed knife. This had to be done discreetly with the owner of the house around. He would sink it into floorboards and skirting boards, the easier it sank in the more pleasure it seemed to give him as he sucked in through his teeth. We walked away, and he said, “ I wouldn’t buy that.” We did of course, when the mortgage survey report came I knew what to expect. Luckily I had made a friend Gerry, who I played football with. He was a plumber but could turn his hand to many other trades and was very competent at everything he tackled. He did all the work required at a very reasonable price with the exception of the rebuilding of the front garden wall, that I decided to tackle myself.

Frank Mee taught bricklaying at an evening class at a local technical college. His trade before becoming a Clerk of Works was a bricklayer. When I told him I was going to try and rebuild the garden wall myself he suggested I came along to his class. I did this for several months, all the other lads on the course were apprentice bricklayers and they thought it was a huge joke that an Architect was joining in. There was a lot of ribbing, but it was all in good humour I think they respected the fact I was there with them and trying to learn. They were all doing fancy arches and corbelling and there was I struggling with my plain straight wall. I got there in the end and the wall was rebuilt and approved by the mortgage surveyor

I liked living at Carlton Road, Worksop. We had a decent sized lounge with a kitchen off and a bedroom and bathroom upstairs. We shared the house with Mrs White, the elderly lady who owned it. She was a real treasure and left us completely to ourselves. Nothing was ever too much trouble for her if we needed anything. Mrs. White had the front room, another bedroom upstairs, and went round to her son nearby for meals. This would be the first time we had actually lived together; it was a wonderful time for us. I set up a large drawing board in the lounge and most of my thesis project was drawn here. We settled into a routine, Edna would walk to Bentinck School, and I would give her a kiss, wave her off and settle down to several hours of work. A couple of mornings a week I had to go on the scooter into Sheffield for lectures and to see my course tutor. There were no rules that you had to stay in the Department and work each day, as long as you turned up with the drawings when they had to be submitted that was fine. A question has just crossed my mind, how did they know it was my hand using the drawing pen, particularly after what happened at the end of third year? It was and they trusted me.

We used to go down to the school on summer’s evenings and play tennis with other members of staff. One day Jeff Jennings approached me and asked if I would be interested in turning out for the football team he played for. He said it was for Bakestone Moor where he lived. I went along for a practice and was surprised at the standard; they were good, very good in fact. The league they played in incorporated the junior teams of local professional teams like Mansfield Town and nearby Colliery teams. When I turned out for my first game, I noticed with surprise there was a large hoarding around the ground and I seem to think spectators were charged admission That may be my imagination running wild but I certainly know I found it tough, I hadn’t played regularly for a couple of seasons and the pace of the matches was quick and they didn’t hold back when tackling. I played for about half a season and then gave up; I didn’t think I could spare the time with my finals approaching. It was an interesting experience and made me realise how good you had to be to make a full time career in football when we played the Mansfield Town Junior side.

In February 1958 I became twenty-one and under the rules at that time, eligible to vote. My first opportunity to put my cross on a ballot paper did not come until the 9th October 1959. Harold McMillan was prime minister and went to the country on the back of that famous slogan; “You’ve never had it so good!” We were living in Worksop but I was registered to vote at Little Hulton, not to be deterred I set off early one morning on the scooter. The weather was bad and there was fog around. It was a difficult trip over the Pennines but I was there to record my one and only vote ever for the Conservative party. I stayed overnight at Tynesbank. Dad didn’t come in until very late; he had been acting as the returning officer at a polling station in nearby Swinton. McMillan’s slogan must have worked he won by a huge majority; this must have pleased Dad, as he was a staunch Conservative all his life.

During the summer term in final year I went to an evening lecture in the Department. It was by Henry Swain who was the Deputy County Architect of Nottinghamshire County Council. He was talking about the work his office were doing at that time in the development of prefabricated system building. In the late fifties this was becoming very fashionable and local authorities were combining resources to fund huge building programmes. Notts had recently hit the headlines by winning a Gold Medal at the international Milan Architectural Exhibition for a school design. Henry was a striking figure, he reminded me of Spike Milligan, hair all over the place, wild eyed and gabbling as the words poured out of him. You couldn’t help but be impressed with his enthusiasm, the slides of the work made a big impression on me also and I decided to apply for a position there. A few months later I sent off an application form and one day set off for an interview. It was my first visit to Nottingham. My initial reaction was certainly more positive than when I had first seen Sheffield. The county Hall buildings designed by Vincent Harris were rather imposing, sited alongside the river Trent. I was also very pleased to see the Trent Bridge Cricket ground on the opposite side of the road. I had an interview with Henry Swain and the County Architect Dan Lacey. Dan was quite the opposite of Henry, a bluff, taciturn man but very shrewd. They showed me around the office and I made a careful note that you could see the wicket of the cricket ground from the drawing office window. The interview went well and I was offered a job, subject to my passing the degree course on a starting salary of £789 per year. How salaries have changed!

I worked steadily through final year on my thesis. The basic design was agreed with my tutor and then it was the long grind of preparing the detailed drawings. Everything was drawn up in the lounge at Carlton Road, usually to the accompaniment of my jazz records, the odd burst of Beethoven’s “Pastoral” and Mitzi the yapping poodle next door. I harboured some very dark thoughts about her. I asked a couple of old Farnworth Grammar school friends for help; Harry Baggs was a heating and ventilating engineer and Alan Cockshaw who had qualified as a civil engineer at Leeds. Alan and his wife Brenda came over to Worksop to visit us. Both men kindly helped out by providing me with detailed calculations, it all helped enormously to improve the final presentation and help me to qualify. I can’t remember if I paid for their valuable services, Harry and I are still talking so he can’t be feeling any resentment and I was delighted to make contact with Alan again only about three years ago. I had actually forgotten he had helped me out until he reminded me. Time and time again during the process of writing this I have been reminded of things, which had gone from my mind. I decided to have all my drawings stretched and mounted on hardboard professionally. I’m not sure it made any difference but at least in years to come it gave me a useful supply of hardboard; they were cut up for all sorts of jobs. There were about twenty-five sheets and they were heavy to transport. On finals hanging day they did look very sharp though. It was a very tense occasion; the external adjudicator was Sir Hubert Bennett, chief architect to London County Council. We all had to stand by our work in the main hall of the University to answer any questions from the examining team. Later that day we were told the results. I had made it and got a 2/1 -degree. This was the classification just below a first and I was delighted with that. I can’t remember how Edna and I celebrated. I probably drove back to Worksop on the scooter and we went out to the cinema, which was our usual relaxation A great day for us and the end of a long winding road of ups and downs that began in 1942 when I started at St. Paul’s Peel Infants school.

The degree-day ceremony was held at the City Hall on the 2nd July 1960. I had to hire robes for the presentation. The hall was packed and a very proud Mary and Wilf were sitting with Edna. I don’t know how many presentations were made; across all the Departments of the University there were an awful lot. The name and qualification of each person was read out and then they walked across the stage to receive the certificate and the applause. It seemed to go on and on, I was glad to be named “Clarke” and not “Young” as we went on in alphabetical order. I can’t say I enjoyed it and was relieved when it was over, I didn’t like wearing all the fancy kit. One thing of interest, I wrote earlier that a five-year course was like a marathon, of all the students, around twenty +, who started that first year in October 1955 only seven of us walked across the stage that day. In the box of letters I found the programme for the ceremony when I looked at the names of those who had passed on the programme I could not see Abdul’s name. This was explained in a letter I wrote to Edna on the 9th June, Abdul had decided he had no chance of qualifying and went to see the Professor and asked to be referred back a year. That must have been agonising for him having come so close. Before I sent the robes back I had a studio portrait done for my parents at a photographer’s in Worksop. You have never seen such an embarrassed look on my face; I couldn’t wait to return them and get back to normality. So ended five momentous years for me. I started as a rather naïve shy lad when I had arrived in Sheffield and ended up married with a degree. Along the way I had my traumas, panics and difficulties but there were enormous benefits in the independence and growing maturity I acquired. I met so many people, made so many close friends and above all had the luckiest day of my life when I cast eyes on the young Miss Barrett at just the right time.

A week before the wedding and the tension was mounting. Letters were flying backwards and forwards on a daily basis. It’s hard to realise in today’s world of instant communications that letters were the only way I could make contact with Edna; there was no telephone at Northfields farm. A letter I posted on the 28th July caused a rumpus and the bride to be got very upset. That summer one of my student friends John Whisson had got married to Kay, I had in fact been a groomsman. I went round to have a chat with John to try to learn exactly what the sequence of events was at the ceremony. I wrote all this down in the letter saying to Edna, “so you can see if it differs in any way from the way you expect things.” I then listed seventeen items, number 1 - “ Bride arrives at church, I am standing with Keith, as you come down the aisle you come alongside me.” Talk about trying to teach your Grannie to suck eggs. I carried on painfully in this vein. Item 16- “We then turn round, you link my arm and we jog into the vestry, the order being, Bride and Groom, Keith and June, two Bridesmaids, your parents, my parents.” Being rather stupid I had no idea how she would receive this, I thought I was being helpful. I haven’t got a copy of the angry reply that came back by return. The message was in effect, “tell John Whisson to sod off, we will organise our own wedding thank you, do you think I am stupid, and by the way what do you mean we will jog into the vestry, you’re not taking this seriously.” There was no luvvy duvvy ending this time, it finished off, “Look after yourself.” I was replying back on the 30th, creeping and crawling, desperately trying to pour oil on the troubled waters of Priors Marston. “ Oh my love you did sound cross in your letter today, allow me to explain, I put all that down so you would know how much I had gleaned of the wedding ceremony, so that this weekend we can talk things over and decide with the vicar exactly what we are going to do. I didn’t mean that we have to jog into the vestry, very sorry if I seemed flippant.” What a laugh, and all this just a few days before the real thing. We must have had a better postal service in those days to exchange insults that quickly. The arrival of the wedding of course meant the end of letter writing altogether. Edna’s final letter to me dated July 30th 1959 closed with the following lines, “Oh! Roll on tomorrow. Thank goodness we won’t be on this letter writing business any more- I hope.” Life would be very different from now and I couldn’t wait!

A few days before the wedding I received a letter from Mother. The opening sentences are typical of her with wings beating, I had been having problems with stomach ulcers.

“We received your letter today and we hope you will follow the advice of your Doctor, It has always been my one worry since you left home that something like this would happen sooner or later due to wrong feeding. Now it is up to yourself to see that you do eat the right food and get your stomach right again. Your Dad and I thank you for the kind words you sent to us. We have always looked on you as the greatest thing God has given us in our life together, and it has always been our aim to see you get a good start in life. We are also pleased that you have found such a girl as Edna and we shall be proud to call her our daughter. Bill you must never be afraid to come to us if you are in need, we shall always help if it is possible to do so. God Bless you always, Mum and Dad.”

The stomach problem soon resolved itself once I began to live in Worksop. The cure was obviously Edna’s cooking and the twenty miles or so between Greasy Annies shop and Carlton Road.

August 2nd dawned and I travelled down to Rugby by train. Edna’s father met me. That evening, the night before the wedding, Keith, Janet and I stayed at “The Hollybush.” the pub in the village. Most people were travelling on the day, so the wedding was held in the afternoon. I can’t remember what we did in the morning, pacing round and round I expect, I certainly was not allowed to see the bride. St. Leonards is a lovely small parish Church; Edna’s father was a bell ringer here. There is a photograph of Keith and a very nervous young man walking towards the church before the wedding. We took our places on the front row and the congregation slowly filled up behind us as the organ played. My Mother and Father came with Lizzie, Albert and Doris. All Edna’s family were there, her parents, Reg, Marjorie and a tiny Pauline, June and Les, Eric and Josephine. The bridesmaids were June, Josephine and a friend of Edna’s called Ann Ludlam. Ironically after that day she never saw Ann again, Edna often wondered what she had done to upset her. Edna’s friend from school Lorna came also several of my close friends from Sheffield, John Whisson and Kay, Frank Helm and Margot his girlfriend. Finally Edna appeared looking gorgeous, what a good choice I said to myself. After the ceremony there was the usual chaos of photographs, then over to the reception at the village hall. It all passed in a bit of a blur, I don’t know what sort of hash I made of the speech; I assume I did one. After the reception we hastily got changed ready to escape; we were off for an exotic four days in Weston Super Mare. Reg drove us to the station at Leamington closely chased by Keith and Janet, fellow students John Whisson, Frank Helm and their respective ladies. The lanes around Priors Marston are very narrow and high-speed car races are not to be recommended, thankfully we all eventually safely congregated on Leamington station platform. We finally got on the train; a few “Just Married” signs were daubed in lipstick across the carriage window before it slowly pulled away. What a relief we were on our own at last!

It was very late when we finally arrived in Weston Super Mare. We were staying at a boarding house on the sea front near the centre of the town. When we got there, the landlady was like an old mother hen, fussing round offering us this and that. We just wanted to get to bed immediately. No you’re wrong! We were absolutely exhausted and sleep was what we both wanted, in our case the second night was the first night. The weather was good and we spent most of it lazing on the beach. One evening we passed the local dance hall, there were loads of young people milling around waiting to go in. Edna went noticeably quiet for a period, I asked her what was wrong but she wouldn’t say. She told me much later she had been worrying that she was now a married women, getting old and the carefree days of dances and being chased had gone! I thought as much, luckily she soon snapped out of that mood. Incidentally she told me that those few days in Weston Super Mare became the first holiday she ever had. They passed quickly and the following Saturday we were on the train again, this time heading for Carlton Road Worksop and married life.

Early in 1959 I had changed my mind about waiting until summer 1960 before getting married. I had decided that I wanted to get married before I started the final year that October. I proposed to Edna, when we were over on a visit to Little Hulton. On the Saturday evening we went out to a dance hall in Bolton that went by the exotic name of “Palais de Dance.” Well, sort of proposed! We were sitting in the upper gallery looking down on the floor. At that precise moment they were appropriately playing the Michael Holliday song “The Story of My Life.” Edna always complained later that it was never done properly, there was no formal “question popped,” she was simply told we would be getting married that autumn. No comment. It made sense to me; I was spending half my time travelling backwards and forwards to Worksop. I didn’t want to be doing that in my final year. Naturally when my parents were told they were worried about it and thought I should qualify before getting married. They didn’t have the problem of driving that scooter back to Sheffield in the early hours of the morning, I was adamant we should get married before fifth year; I was convinced it gave me the best hope of passing, and had no doubts that the marriage would work Luckily I was proved right on both counts. The wedding was provisionally arranged for August 3rd, Bank Holiday Monday, the main reason for the date was the shop would be closed allowing my Mother and Dad to come. Edna wasn’t entirely happy with that, it cut our honeymoon time down to only four days. Before all this could be finally settled I had to go through the formality of asking the permission of her father. Then, it was considered essential to obtain that approval, two weeks later we went down to the farm. We travelled on our faithful scooter, arriving late on a Friday evening. The next morning I got up and asked where her Dad was, he had already been up several hours and was milking the cows. I went round to the cowshed; he was crouched down on a small stool, tugging away. There was no machinery; it was all done by hand. He glanced up when I walked in and carried on. I rather nervously, opened the conversation. “ Um Er, would it be all right if I, er, got, um, married to Edna?” He paused for a fraction, glanced at me, grinned and said, “ Yes, of course” and immediately resumed milking. That was it, I went back into the farm, and the “ordeal” hadn’t lasted long.

On the 23rd March Edna was writing to say she had received a letter from the vicar of Priors Marston, Laurie Parsons confirming that the banns would be published there and that I would require them to be published at St Pauls Peel, Little Hulton. So we had definitely set the date by then.

At Easter a family gathering took place at Priors Marston. I drove down with my parents so that they could meet Edna’s parents. It makes me realise how selective memory is, I had completely forgotten about this and without the letters I would never have remembered. We went for four days, I don’t know where we stayed but Wilf and Mary enjoyed it all very much. Apparently before we set off back Annie had filled the boot of Dad’s car with eggs, he was a careful driver thankfully. Even Dad said how much he enjoyed meeting everybody and he usually didn’t say much. I wonder how Annie coped with all that? Edna had told me her mother had said she wouldn’t even be going to the wedding so I suppose Wilf and Mary were wondering what to expect? She must have made a big effort, Dad described her as, “Very nice and didn’t seem shy at all.”

In April whilst on holiday Edna was beavering away sorting things out for the big day, which was coming up fast, just under four months to go. She was arranging the catering with a lady in the village who offered the meals at around seven shillings and sixpence each. (37p) We were catering for around 50 guests. She was agreeing the hymns and went to Coventry with Ann Ludlam and June the bridesmaid’s looking for dresses. There was so much to do.

During late spring there was a lot more correspondence about wedding arrangements, I began at one point to wonder whether my parents were right after all, perhaps I should have waited until I had qualified. One big problem was solved when Mrs White, Edna’s landlady agreed that I could simply move in with Edna after we were married. I can’t remember if we paid additional rent, I assume we must have done. Other interesting letters from 1959, first from the 14th April, “I had to queue up for ages in the Union to get a polio injection, there were crowds there” that polio epidemic in the early 50’s was still causing concern. From the 27th May, “ I read in the paper of a girl here at the University who has hung herself. She went to the same Grammar School I did and was on finals. She was in digs in Crooksmoor road just round the corner, horrible.” The pressures on students could be enormous and the fact she was from Farnworth Grammar hit me hard. Finally from 1st June, “ I had three fillings at the dentist, it cost £1 Brr. My new speedo cable for the bike cost 9 shillings. The costs of life are mounting.”

Near the end of her first term as a teacher, “ Tomorrow draws nearer. Parents and Miss Barrett meet. I shall be very calm, superior and enlightening- what a hope!”

During the summer term in fourth year we had to make a big decision. What project were we going to do for our thesis? The final year was completely geared around a single design scheme considered in depth. For the previous four years we had all worked on the same schemes dictated by the course, now we would all be doing a different project that we selected. I discussed various options with my course tutor, but reaching agreement was proving difficult. I wanted to do a Central Fire Station for Manchester, but the Professor didn’t like that idea. Apparently somebody had done one similar the year before and he wanted something, “different and original.” I really cannot remember how I came up with this, but one day I suggested how about a new Reform Club for Manchester. The tutor’s eyes gleamed, “What a brilliant idea Bill,” and that was agreed. Oh dear me; what had I done. Gentlemen’s Clubs in London date back over two hundred and fifty years. The London Reform Club was founded during the period 1830 to 1832, by Liberal members of Parliament at the time the Reform Bill was being canvassed and passed. The equivalent in Manchester was founded in 1867 as a gentlemen’s club for liberal politicians and supporters. Many other clubs were founded, Atheneum, Travellers, United Services, Whites, Boodles, Brooks to name a few. They all have a unique history. The problem I now faced was how easy would it be to gain access and information on establishments that, by their very nature were a closed society? The answer to that was very difficult, I am sure the Chief Fire Officer of Manchester would have welcomed me with open arms. I wrote to several clubs, some did not even bother to reply some said very interesting, but no. In the end I managed to get an interview with two, the secretary’s of the London and Manchester Reform Clubs. The Manchester club wasn’t an attractive place, slightly down at heel I thought. The secretary was different, he was immaculately dressed with a long double-barrelled name and turned out to be a pompous twit. Seeing the type of accommodation was however useful. Later in Easter holidays Edna and I went down to Edenbridge, Kent to stay with Edith and Stan Nightingale for a couple of nights. The next day after arrival I took the train up to London to visit the Reform Club while Edna remained with Edith. The Secretary seemed anxious and made it very plain he didn’t want to waste too much time on me. He rushed me round the place, constantly looking at his watch. I had hoped to spend a morning there, but within an hour I was being shown the door. Again it was of some value to see the fittings and feel the atmosphere of the place. That was it for the research, all I had to do now was put a scheme together and get that degree.

A few random stories Edna wrote to me concerning school. “One of the student teachers was passing the Music room in between lessons. One boy was trying to get in but the other children inside were holding the door. Apparently the boy said, “Quick open the door, Here’s Miss Barrett and you know what she’s like.” Then according to the tale the door opened like wildfire and two scared faces peered round. Edna in her new role as a dragoness.” The next one shows she had admirers, “One bright spot in today’s happenings. Dunstan turned up at dinnertime with a bunch of bluebells for me, the poor lad was laughed at and later I discovered another boy sneaking some flowers into a pot during break.” For once at the end of March she was very upset with things, “I’m utterly fed up at school.” Her irritation was directed at the Headmaster Mr. Wade and some senior staff who seem to have made a mess of organising an evening of competitions at school for choral singing and poetry reading to be attended by parents. Things seemed to have gone wrong and unusually for her she wrote in an angry mood, “That is the last time I spend so much time on Ansell’s crazes. I feel all the children deserve an apology, poor kids. I hate the way they are treated like animals devoid of all feeling.” It was absolutely typical of her to show concern for the children. One day the Director of Education for Nottinghamshire, Edward Mason arrived for an inspection. I remember the man when I later worked at County Hall, “He asked could he see my record book and scheme of work? My record book was at home and I didn’t dare show him the scheme of work it was practically non-existent. Oh love I’ve never felt so wretched. The lesson before one of the kids piped up, “ Miss they say you’ve got love bites on your neck.” I wonder if Mason saw them!”

One day during 1959 John Whisson who was in our year was driving me back to Worksop. I can’t remember why he was taking me in his car but the memory of what we saw is still clear in my memory. It was a bright sunny day and we were driving along past Lindrick Golf Course. John was a quick driver and we were making good time. I was staring idly at the players walking along the course, when suddenly Johnny shouted.” What the bloody hell is that!” He was staring in his driving mirror and suddenly this tiny car shot past us and disappeared quickly into the distance. We probably felt, as though we had seen a flying saucer, in fact it was our first view of the Mini car. Designed by Alex Issigonis for the nationalized British Motor Corporation and made in Birmingham it had only just been released. It was a huge success and soon they were everywhere.

How about this for a prophecy, “Someday when we are married and have our own house and kids we will be able to look back and think of these times when we were separated so often. It is an old joke that when people have been married a few years they dig up their old love letters and have a good laugh. Without any fear of doubt in my mind at all I say we will be happily married and be able to live together happy and contented. The date now is September 7th 1958. Perhaps on September 7th 1968 we could look at this letter again and see just how right I was, and believe me Edna I know I am right.”

Over the next few weeks letters from Edna were getting less frequent and very short. She was finding her new job stimulating but very tiring. She had to work most evenings on marking and preparation of the next day’s lessons. Her first impressions of the staff at the school were correct and she very quickly settled in. She used to tell me about the characters there, Jeff Jennings was the joker and according to Edna was, “ an awful tease.” He was always having fun with her and Lorna. Ken Honeybone was usually Jeff’s partner in crime. Nick Chamberlain the art teacher and others whose names have now gone from my mind but she enjoyed the atmosphere of the staff room and the kids were not that bad. I remember she had a soft spot for one naughty lad in her form called Wilfred and a girl called Kathleen Chambers. One day Wilfred brought his book up to be marked, “I took one look at it and told him to do it again. I heard a mutter from Wilfred, thinking I could not have heard correctly I asked him what he had said. The answer came back, “Bloody Eck Miss!” My mouth dropped open.” It was a great time for Edna and she was happy in her work and new friends. One of her early letters at that time said, “ Mr Jennings gave me a little lecture today on working too much, I think I will take his advice.” She used to mention him a lot; “I was talking to Jeff today about work when he suddenly asked when we were getting married. He then got talking about himself and his relationship and how horribly frustrating it was waiting for the day. He said he was finding it a great strain etc.” She then wrote, “so you see we are not abnormal and he sees his fiancee every day!” Jeff eventually got married in April 1959 when Edna wrote to say he had brought some wedding cake into the school. Lucky Jeff, he was getting his oats four months before me!

In one of her letters I found a scrubby piece of paper obviously written by one of the kid’s, which she had kept. “ We have had Music today with Miss Barrett. She made some of us stay behind at 4 o’ clock to do some work and I was one of the unlucky ones who had to stay behind for laughing at a boy called Fisher. Then the teacher made me stay long for talking when I arrived at her room.” What a toughie she was! She wrote to tell me of a mother who had gone into school complaining about this Miss Barrett who was keeping her little angel in after school. She was full of herself one day when she felt she had had some success in the classroom. “ You know the atrocious work of Form 2. As a shot in the dark I attempted some grammar thinking they needed to start sometime. I was quite amazed at the results- mind it took about an hour to drum in what a sentence was. It was obvious they had never been told from the ridiculous answers I received. I think I may have grabbed at the right straw here, fingers crossed. It was something new so after a look of boredom they listened it was wonderful to see the interest when they realised they could do something.” Another typical one concerning Jeff and Ken, “ I walked jauntily into school today and Jeff said, “You’ve had a crafty weekend. I went red.” He went on to say that he and Ken had walked past her house the previous night and heard unmentionable noises and furthermore the curtains were about a foot apart. I told him you were very tired and had been asleep when you had been over here. Jeff said, “There’s only one reason a man falls asleep and I should know, it completely shatters you!”

We were seeing each other every weekend and with the scooter I was able to get over at least once during the week in the evening. The late night ride back from Worksop to Sheffield was becoming a regular feature of my life. It was also easier for me to take her back home from Sheffield. She was getting used to clinging on the back of the scooter, it certainly was £85 well spent. About two weeks into her fledgling teaching career there was an amusing incident. In her own words, “Today I was on duty and after locking my form room I went to supervise second sitting. After dinner a child came to me wanting to say his tables so I unlocked my door, I was shocked to see another child standing there; I asked “What are you doing here?” the child cried, “You locked me in,” Boo hoo, Squalls of tears etc. I was horrified, the time was 1pm and school restarted in another 15 minutes and he hadn’t had any dinner. Luckily I managed to find the kitchen staff to find him something.”

Back to University for the start of 4th year and immediately plunged into a one day Sketch Design. There were constant references throughout the correspondence along the lines of, “Oh no another SD to face.” It was pressured work; we would walk in to be given a brief and schedule of accommodation for a project to be designed and drawn up in 24 hours. The types of project ranged widely from a Motel, Sports club, Youth Hostel, a museum for Greek antiquities to a Riding School. People often worked through the night. A panel would assess the schemes comprising the year tutors and sometimes the Professor involved. A few days later a mark would be given and these would all be taken into account at the end of the year. I am not sure Edna was too impressed when soon after term began I wrote to tell her I was captain of the Department football team and I had to organise a trial game for the following Sunday. Hmm “Would you like to come over and watch?”

Rag weekend was an important date in the University calendar. The object was to raise money for local charities and also to have a lot of fun in the process. In my first year I didn’t know what to expect. There was a large procession through the streets of Sheffield on decorated lorries known as “floats.” Each Department would adopt a theme and create a structure to represent that. We were always expected to do well. Each float would be laden with students jangling collecting buckets for the money. There was always a fancy dress Rag Ball, a big event held at City Hall. On the 29th October 1958 it nearly brought about the end of my relationship with Edna, or so she said later! I had the balmy idea we would exchange clothes, I wore one of her dresses, the pink one she had been wearing when we first met, lots of powder and lipstick plus a couple of large balloons strategically located. Very reluctantly she got togged up in my shoes, suit and tie. We got ready at Highnam Crescent and took the bus into the city centre; we must have had a few odd looks. Cross-dressing obviously didn’t go down too well in Priors Marston and it was a very stony faced lady who waltzed around the floor that night. She told me that she had quite gone off me! Relations were strained for days; eventually she came back to normal. I never made that mistake again!

On the first anniversary of our meeting we got officially engaged on the 7th December 1958. We travelled over to the shop in Tynesbank on the Friday the 5th December. Josephine, Reg, Marjorie and their first child Pauline aged about 18 months came up also for the weekend. Edna and Josie stayed with Lizzie and Albert at Beechfield Avenue. Josie remembers that she liked Albert but couldn’t understand a word he said with that strong, “ Eh bah gum” accent. She remembered he kept a hen in his back garden that must have made her feel at home. She also recalled that my mother gave Reg and Marjorie an electric blanket the first night, they hadn’t used one before and left it switched on all night, it must have been a bit warm. On the Saturday we all travelled over to Blackpool to see the illuminations. I can remember pushing Pauline in her pram along the darkened promenade, flashing lights glittering everywhere. Her little eyes were open wide in amazement! Edna’s diary entry for that day said, “ Bill and I got engaged today Whoopee!!!” The intention at that stage was we would get married when I had finished at Sheffield in the summer of 1960. In the back of the diary also, there is a hilarious entry that referred to a conversation over that weekend she had with my mother. It read – “Mary’s Doctor talk, safe period normal cycle 28 days.1-8 days menstruation, 12-15 days, Ovary ready to be fertilised. 15-18 days, Time at which ovary could be fertilised.” My mother clearly had never heard of contraceptives!

Some time in summer 1958 Keith had ended his engagement to Sue and later found a new girl friend called Janet, by coincidence she had her engagement broken the same day that Keith did. She had just started teaching at a local Grammar School, he met her in October soon after term had started, and that was the reason I changed flats again in the spring of 1959. I left Highnam Crescent and moved in with Abdul Hitam for the rest of the fourth year term. Abdul had a room quite close to the Department in Wilkinson Street. I have this memory of lying in that room listening to endless Nat King Cole records. I cannot remember why I moved I certainly hadn’t had a row with Keith; he was to be my best man that August. I assume he may well have moved in with Janet or, she moved in with him. Josie told me a nice story about Abdul. Apparently I took him down to the farm once and Annie was a bit worried about what to give him to eat. He was a Muslim and she knew they didn’t eat meat so she cooked him pork sausages, not realising they contained meat. Strange considering she was a farmer’s wife. It was very embarrassing when he had to explain sorry he couldn’t eat that.

Reading all these letters of mine again, I am struck by the amount I would write and the frequency. There were at least three a week and sometimes daily. I was even putting letters in the post on the days I was travelling over to see her. My writing then was far better than today’s scrawl. It must have taken me a long time to write as I was almost printing each individual letter. I suppose that is the method I used then to letter up drawings; all the letter writing was good practice. Edna if anything wrote more than me sometimes ten pages. It was also not unusual for her to post a letter then write another on the same day and get that in the post as well. One of my letters to her began, “Thank you ever so much for your four letters received this morning.” Once Edna had left Retford and started in Worksop my visits were not restricted to weekends only and I was chugging over on the scooter in midweek. It’s easy to forget now the pressure and intensity of the work I had to do at University. Carrying on a close relationship at distance did sometimes cause problems in getting schemes in on time and the anguish this caused was often mentioned in the letters.

I mentioned earlier I used to attend jazz concerts at City hall. I didn’t realise until reading the letters how frequent they were. A typical example in October 1958 I saw, Humphrey Lyttleton, Jimmy Rushing, The Dutch Swing College Band, Chris Barber and there was a University jazz festival as well.

I spent the Christmas holiday being a temporary postman in Walkden, for which I earned the grand total of £14. One day I bumped into my old girlfriend Sheila who had given me the sack three years earlier, she was also working on the post and we had a chat. I laid it on very thick in a letter to Edna saying how much nicer she was compared to Sheila. Well I would say that wouldn’t I! I finished work on the post on the 21st December and the next day caught the train to Rugby to spend Christmas at the farm.

On the 13th July 1958 I wrote to Edna about an interesting conversation with Abdul which showed the problems faced by foreign students, “Abdul came round to see me last night, he stayed until 1am that’s why I was nearly late for work this morning. We had a very serious discussion about girls and life in general. I’m afraid Abdul is a very worried young man; it’s his engagement he’s worrying about. After all it isn’t a very nice position to be in he hasn’t seen her for three years and will not for another two years. He is worried stiff about how things will turn out. He isn’t sure of his feelings now and obviously a person can change a lot in three years. As he said, “ she may weigh a ton now!”

Having typed the above I stared at it for a few minutes thinking, “Whatever happened to Abdul?” I last saw him in Birmingham in 1971. On an impulse I typed his name into Google. To my amazement up popped a website with his email address on, the link was to some message boards; only two months ago he was asking for contact with several of his old University friends and my name was there. I banged off an email immediately to Kuala Lumpur. I was absolutely delighted when a reply came back within a couple of days. We are now in touch again after all these years and that has made writing these memories worthwhile to me for that reason alone. He emailed me with an amusing story, “Before I forget, you mentioned about Bob Cross. Do you remember the night I chased him and some others including Keith (as they were returning to the digs after our dinner at the Rickshaw and I was returning to Crewe Hall) up across Weston Park with the lake. They had planned to let loose the boats but I pretended not to hear about their plan. I quickly took another route and ran after them, shouting and pretending to be the park warden. They all ran and I saw for sure Bob sprinted like a 100m runner as well as a hurdler as he jumped at full stretch over the wrought iron fencing. The iron uprights tore his pants and cut his balls! It was my turn to run away from the scene. Were you there, too? Honestly, I was very worried that night and couldn't sleep. I kept thinking Bob might have been killed. I was in the studio very early the next morning, anxiously waiting for the outcome of the night's adventure. Do you know what? Bob walked in with a fag in his mouth, breathed out smoke as if nothing had happened! Ask him if he remembers this episode Bill. It happened in 1957, our 2nd year.” I cannot remember this episode but as Keith, Abdul and I did every thing together it’s almost certain I was there. I spoke to Bob on the phone and he remembered the Weston Park incident vividly and added some further details. When he had disentangled himself from the railings he immediately realized he was injured. The next morning he set off to walk to Hospital, which was quite a way. It was on Eccleshall road past the Rickshaw heading into the City. He said he was staggering along like a bow legged jockey! When he got there a young nurse took him into a cubicle for inspection. He dropped his trousers and at the sight of all the blood and gore she promptly fainted on the spot, with Bob groaning on the bed. They stitched him up but apparently never cleaned him up and kicked him out. He had to go back several times for check ups and was very relieved when the finally discharged him. It didn’t do him any terminal harm; he has produced a couple of kids since!

Around this time Edna had written to me expressing concern over her moods, writing, “I am worse than most women.” I replied wearing my amateur psychologists hat, “How difficult I had found it soon after moving into flats with my old school friends over two years previously. One of them had been really moody and I had got very irritated, “but of course I couldn’t possibly get irritated with you. Keith sometimes could get grumpy when he was fed up but as he was a naturally friendly person I could accept that.” I carried on serenely with the flow, “I don’t profess to be perfect at all times by any means.” Now there’s a surprise. The letter carried on to talk about an engagement later that year and marriage when I had finished at Sheffield possibly in late 1960 after I had found a job.

I was still trying to play sport as much as I could. There were regular references to going to a gym to play indoor football. I have no memory at all now where that gym was. Abdul was a keen badminton and tennis player and we had some games. There were also some cricket nets and in August that year I noted Keith, Abdul and I were going down to practice. Abdul had good hand eye co-ordination. I don’t think cricket is big in Malaya but he soon picked it up.

In the middle of August I finished the job in Sheffield with great relief and Edna came over to Little Hulton for a ten-day holiday. We had a trip over to Blackpool. She liked it, there was certainly plenty to see and do. Whilst she was over we went to the wedding of my cousin Sheila to Charlie Horton. They were married at St. Charles church, Swinton and the reception was held at the Robin Hood pub in Pendlebury. Edna returned home to get ready for her new life in Worksop starting in early September. I started another job in the parcels Department at London Road Station, Manchester earning the princely sum of £7 per week. I was delighted to get it and wrote, “We are as good as engaged by Christmas now.” I did that for about six weeks and obviously was still trying to save up for that ring. I was feeling low on the 29th September saying I only had saved £15 towards the ring. Apparently my pay per week at the parcels office was only £4-50 shillings. There was one odd lad who seemed to attach himself to me. Perhaps because he knew I was a student, he kept telling me he read Freud and spoke about psychoanalysis. One afternoon he cornered me and said, “I’m a very dangerous man, I’m a paranoic.” He got the medical description wrong but I kept out of his way after that. One afternoon I was given the task of sweeping all the station platforms. Only a few years before I had been standing on the same platforms train spotting, I looked at the spotters there with envy. Whilst I was at home during this period Mother kept inviting people home for tea, Mrs Cartwright and Anne, Frank and Ruth his girlfriend, May and Johnny all came at different times. Lots of letters to Edna during this period describing my boring job humping parcels around, there was still time to tell her about a particularly exciting match at Burnden Park between Bolton and Arsenal, I bet she was thrilled. (Bolton won 2-1, so there!)

During the holidays her father had taken her up to Worksop to find accommodation and a room was found living with a family Mr and Mrs Mallender at 56 Potter Street. Driving back home he said what a nice family and how friendly the man had been. His assessment wasn’t too good as Edna was to find out. She moved into the house on the 7th September and wrote to me that evening. They had three children aged two, four and six and they were rather a pain, it wasn’t the best of starts. There was a servant girl who had been there a week and had already given her notice in. She had a chat with Edna and said she didn’t enjoy the sound of Mr Mallender beating up his wife! The prospects were looking bad on the first day. At least the next day her first at school went well and she soon made a good friend in Lorna Ogley the new PE. Teacher. Lorna was to remain a friend for the rest of her life. First impressions of all the staff were very good; they were a mainly young lively bunch, pity about the flat!

She lasted around three weeks in Potter Street. There were increasing difficulties with the kids who she described as “brats” and even worse with Mr Mallender. At the end of the first week she put an advert in the local Post office seeking accommodation elsewhere. Early the second week things were getting nasty, she had whacked one of the kids and Mr M. was threatening to hit her. He stood outside her room screaming, “You can get out tomorrow.” There were furious rows between him and his wife going on well into the night and Edna wasn’t sleeping. By the 23rd Sept she had made contact with an old lady called Mrs White who was offering accommodation at 303 Carlton Road. Edna liked her immediately and accepted. The cost was 35 shillings per week, excluding any food and included a bedroom upstairs and a lounge downstairs with small kitchen off. There was an outside toilet but no bathroom. Mrs White spent most of the day at her son’s house about two minutes away; she said Edna could go there anytime she wanted a bath. Edna asked about her boyfriend visiting, Mrs White said she wouldn’t object to a “man” but would to “men.” Two nights before she left Potter Street there was a particularly violent row going on and she heard Mr Mallender say, “Right I’m not sleeping with you tonight, I’m going upstairs to sleep with Edna.” Big panic, he didn’t attempt it thankfully She finally with great relief left the Mallenders on the 27th September and moved over to the lovely Mrs White. What a contrast, she turned out to be an absolute treasure.

I was beginning to take Edna over to Tynesbank for weekends quite often. Usually we would drive over to Blackpool or Southport with Mother and Dad for an afternoon out. She always enjoyed those trips as she had hardly ever been to the seaside. On one visit to Blackpool I can remember we met Frank Coucill and his girlfriend Ruth who lived there. One afternoon on a trip to Southport we had a real fright. For the one and only time in our lives we went on the Big Dipper. The ride was virtually empty when we got on, we sat in a car with a big iron bar that we pulled up to lock ourselves in. There was no proper seat harness you simply had to hang on to the iron bar across your tummy. Talk about scary. The cars slowly clanked their way up the steep incline ready for the fast descent. As it reached the top the sea was visible way down below as it began to accelerate. Suddenly the metal bar we were hanging onto fell forward, we were lifted up and came within a whisker of toppling out head over heels and it was terrifying. When we got off I really should have complained how dangerous it was but we staggered away. Never again did we ever try anything like that.

In early July Edna visited the school in Worksop for the first time. She was delighted with what she found. All staff had to take one maths lesson per day, which made me smile and she was to specialize in English. She was to take the first two years and the good news also there were to be five newly qualified young teachers starting at the same time. Term began on September the 9th. The last week at College was a happy time lots of socialising, dinners and parties. They all had a formal dinner in the main hall Edna and her friends were sitting with Mr Mellor a member of staff. He started to talk about marriage and said the teachers on average take at least seven years to start a family due to the tension and stress of the job. Edna wrote to tell me this tale and said she would definitely drop that average. They had riotous nights out in the local pub getting drunk on lemonade. A few days later she was beginning to pack her bags and finally leave Retford. She wrote to say that she was just off to say her good-byes to dear Miss Warren who apparently said, “ You will still be close to us living in Worksop Miss Barrett do call in and let me know how you are getting on.” No chance of that happening.

I had forgotten that my Mother used to regularly send cards and good wishes to Edna. She was always so pleased to receive them. There was one waiting for her at Northfields farm when she returned home, a musical one that they all laughed at. She had a holiday job working at Marks and Spencer in Leamington. She had to cycle every day to Southam to get the bus. She claimed that the sixteen miles per day she was cycling was doing her no good at all. It was a long day she left home at 7am and did not return until 7-15pm.

In the summer of 1958 I desperately wanted a scooter, at that time they were everywhere. In letters around late spring there were many references to me looking around for one. I was looking ahead to the time a few months hence when Edna started her new job teaching in Worksop. The late night train and walking home if