A Time Remembered

R.D.Marshall

Now sing, "Now thank we all our God". This is how I remember my last day at School, and as I stood looking up at the stage at our headmaster in his cap and gown, which he only wore on special occasions, it suddenly came to me that this, probably, would be the last time that I would see him and my form master, who had been so good to me.

I just stood there in a deep dream thinking of the big adventure, which was about to come. A great loud booming voice was the next thing I heard, it was my turn to go up to the stage to receive my school leaving diploma and bible.

I shook the headmaster's hand rather nervously and that was it, just like having a tooth snatched - no more school. I said "cheerio" to all my class-mates, we wished each other all the best for the future and that was it.

My weeks holiday seemed to fly and it was soon Monday morning and my first day at work. I don't think I slept a wink the night before and I was up at the crack of dawn making a brew of tea and rechecking that I had got all my things packed for my first job - apprentice joiner with a local firm of wheelwrights, property repairers and undertakers.

Bang, shuffle, creek, the living room door opened and there she stood, coughing until she was blue in the face. Dear old Gram (not grandmother, but Gram). She stood for a moment holding the door while she got her breath, complete with Lancashire slippers, minus one bob and held on with large elastic bands and in her hair the biggest pre war metal hair curlers you could ever wish to see; large closing jaws like that of some giant flesh eating monster. Gram had been my foster mother since the war because my mother and father had both been away on war work and they had left me with Gram to bring me up, but never bothered to bring me back when the war was over.

As I looked at Gram a tear trickled down her face and she said with a breathless sob "You know Ron, it doesn't seem five minutes since I was lifting you out of the s/hole in case a cinder fell on you!"

"S/hole," by the way was the term which she used for the space under the black leaded fire grate. As I got up and put a hand on her shoulder to comfort her, little did I realise in the next few seconds we would be having a heated argument about my bib and brace overalls and why she had insisted putting the sharpest knife-edge crease in them. "I don't want you showing me up", she said. One of her other pet sayings was "If you ever got knocked down at least you would have clean underpants on and be clean and tidy." It was no use arguing with her, she was too set in her ways. The next five minutes were spent in the outside loo trying to get the crease out of my overalls and making them look as though they had been used to working. When this task was done, I bid cheerio and off to work I went, complete with one World War Two gas mask case, haversack containing one Billycan and very large gram type butties. Not forgetting my brand new tool box and a few assorted tools which I had acquired from a relative of the family. I felt so very proud of myself as I marched off to my first day of work; I arrived at the yard five minutes early, this was gram's idea to show I was a willing worker.

The works office looked to me for all the world like a very small railway type wooden building on stilts, and in the need of repainting and repairs. I climbed the steep steps up to the office and I was met at the door by one of the most ugly tomcats that I had ever seen. It sat there looking at me, minus one ear and very badly battle scarred. I bent down to give it a stroke and then wished that I had not done so. It let out one yell and so did I. "Don't worry about Monty, you will soon get used to his little ways" exclaimed a voice coming from out of the office. "You are lucky he did not have your hand off. It takes a bit for him to get used to strangers first thing in a morning. You will find a tap in the yard to rinse the blood from your hand and while you are at it, fill the kettle up and make a brew."

Dear old Billy, he was to be my boss and mentor for the next seven years. After a drink of tea, a bit of medical attention and a talk about the firm from Billy, I was duly signed on to the firm as apprentice joiner. I was given a guided tour of the yard, workshop and the Chapel of Rest, which I was informed must be locked at all times, then introduced to all of the men. If I was asked today to describe my boss Billy, I would say without any doubt he looked for all the world like Wilfred Bramble, the actor of Steptoe and Son fame, even right down to the black homburg hat. When he spoke his voice always sounded as though he was singing a sad lament; maybe this was because he had been a funeral director for so many years. He was a strict but very fair boss and everything was run to a tight schedule.

He was a strong Methodist churchgoer and part time lay preacher. When things went wrong as sometimes they did, the apprentices or anybody who happened to be in his way had to duck because he had a nasty habit of throwing his hat (the lads used to say "here we go, it's hat dancing time again.")

My next few weeks at work were rather a disappointment to me because I had had great expectations of doing quite a lot of fancy woodworking jobs, but this was not to be. My main jobs consisted of brewing up, brushing up, making glue and being made fun of by the older chaps who asked me to "go for a long stand" or "go and fetch me a glass hammer". Eventually this all stopped and I started to enjoy my work and the comradeship of all the older men. Later I teamed up with Bert who taught me all there was to know about the trade. He was quite a small man with a walrus moustache and very loose fitting false teeth which used to drop and click when he was excited or when he laughed; if it was a cold morning he was like a walking castanet player!

The first time I had to deal with death and a funeral was quite frightening and at the same time quite funny. We all had to take turns with the funeral department and when it was the turn of Bert and I it turned out to be the laugh of the workshop. Bert and I made the very posh oak coffin with all the best trimmings and furniture. It was made for quite a well to do person of the village. When the coffin was all completed and polished it was taken by Bert, Billy and myself to meet its new owner, the late Lady S, Then we took them back to the Chapel of Rest where we were met by Norman, the odd job and yard man and also the minder of Monty, the cat. Norman was a very likeable person but he was a little bit slow, I think at some time Billy must have felt sorry for him and given him the small part time job of yard man. We wheeled the coffin into the Chapel of Rest and Billy told Norman to lock up after we had finished.

Billy had to see that her Ladyship was all tidy and that all of the cosmetic part of the trade was done. The funeral was to be at three o'clock that afternoon, but she was to be at the Manor one hour before so that the family could say their last farewells and also a small prayer said over her. Bert and myself had just enough time to go home for our dinner and to get changed into our nice black suits, as this funeral had requested two bearers. Bert and I did not mind this job because we both got two and sixpence on top of our wages for wearing our suits. We all arrived at the Manor at two o'clock as requested. The coffin was wheeled into the centre of a large dining room and Billy and Bert unscrewed the lid and lifted the vale from her Ladyships' face. We all stood back to let the vicar and the family gather around the coffin to say prayers and farewells. The vicar had just got to the part where he was saying how charitable her ladyship had been while she was alive when all of a sudden there was a slight movement at the foot of the shroud. Berts' teeth began to chatter and I think mine did too! The vicar moved the shroud and there was such a scream and commotion when the vicar fell back with Monty, the cat, gripping his hand. Norman was not on good terms with Billy for two weeks after that episode!