cav45to64

Caversham childhood 1945 to 1964

By Malcolm Buckler

I was born in the back bedroom of 85 Woodcote Road, early in 1945. The midwife told my mother that I was OK, except for one foot pointing backwards and that she had looked out of the window and observed my brother throwing a garden fork , which then speared my sister’s foot to the lawn. Maybe this was to be the “year of the foot”. Anyway I now have a pair of size 11’s both pointing forwards and my sister recovered after treatment.

85 Woodcote Road is almost on the corner adjacent to Richmond Road and on the opposite side. We kept a number of chickens and used to preserve the eggs in “Water Glass” during the winter. We also had a small orchard and those apples were religiously wrapped in newspaper and stored in wooden orange boxes through the winter. The boxes arrived from Woodcote Way Stores (Johnson Bros.), with the weekly order and Theo Johnson was quite a friend of the family.

The house was well built, in the 1930’s by Taylors Ltd. and Mr Taylor and his wife lived next door. Although only an average four bedroom house, it had delusions of grandeur. There were two fireplaces downstairs and in two of the bedrooms plus the new luxury of central heating. In every room, was a bell push and in the kitchenette was a wooden box full of indicators, which would dance according to the room calling. The phone was a black candle stick job and a local call cost 2d but this gave you unlimited time. My mother would leave it off the hook to make a cup of tea, while chatting to Mrs Evans, or Mrs Creal, who both lived within sight. All the interior woodwork was painted in black lacquer, which had been the fashion in pre war days. In the 1950’s, it was all repainted in cream, which was then the rage and did brighten things up. The lovely grandfather clock in the hall was chopped up at about the same time, as it was considered “old fashioned”.

We had no washing machine but had a “boiler”, which was an ugly grey enamel tub with a large gas ring below. This was dragged to the centre of the kitchen and connected to a gas point on the wall. When the first Hoover washing machine arrived there was great excitement, although it was just a tiny single tub with hand mangle. We also had no fridge for many years but used the pantry and a meat safe. Soured milk was always made into delicious curd cheese by simply hanging up in a muslin.

We had a 1930’s Garrard radiogram and, in the kitchen, a portable HMV radio, which was also used for picnics and as a car radio. This required an acid filled accumulator to be recharged at regular intervals, if we were to hear “Music While You Work” and “The Billy Cotton Band show”.

When it was announced that the Coronation was to be televised in 1953, my father enquired about purchasing a T.V. The following day Edwards Radio shop, in Oxford road, erected an H aerial and delivered three T.V. sets and asked us to try them for a week or two and decide, which we liked best. Father decided on the 12 inch Philco Console model. It came with a much needed instruction book, which showed you how to correct a myriad of annoyingly common problems. Most of the day only a test card and tone were transmitted but, in the afternoon, programmes began with Muffin the Mule. The Coronation, was a marvel to watch but the colours had to be imagined. Gradually a brown spot began to grow in the centre of the screen and the lovely set quickly reached the end of a short life and also would not receive the newly introduced I.T.V.

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Milk was delivered from Blagraves Farm by horse and flat deck cart. The milk arrived at number 85 at about lunchtime and the horse always had a nosebag of lunch opposite our house and we would fill it’s pail with water. The milk was unpasturised Jersey full cream. In spite of wide necked bottles, the “top of the milk” usually had to be extracted with a spoon before it could be poured, as half of the bottle was yellow double cream. The milkman only sold milk and cream but in the summer would also have half pint milk bottles of the most refreshing orange juice. One of the bakers also delivered with a horse and cart but we used Howards, who had a motor van.

In 1949 I attended my first school, St Peter’s Hill and most days I would walk there, relying on a long gabardine raincoat to keep out the weather. The class rooms were lit by large gas lights, which were ignited by teacher using a pole to pull on a chain. They hissed and gave an eerie greenish yellow light. I remember queuing up to gargle with cloudy white disinfectant and then to be given free government orange juice concentrate, so I guess there may have been a serious epidemic about. My much older brother and sister had preceded me at this school and, during the war, my brother was there with Ally Khan, who was to succeed his father as the Aga Khan, one of the richest men in the world. The school was also strafed by gun fire from a German fighter during those days and bore scars in the brickwork. As I progressed through the school, my parents became unhappy with the standard and I was moved to the Highlands at Tilehurst, which was a long bus and trolley bus run for a tiny boy but I loved the adventure.

I still fondly remember a wonderful childhood on the Thames at Caversham and cycling on a "Fairy Cycle", with solid tyres, to Mapledurham Village when 7 or 8 years old. I think my mother thought I was playing in the garden. Caversham was wonderfully safe for children to wander in those days. The parade of shops, in Bridge St, provided a barber to cut my hair for one shilling (5p), Worton’s the chemist to develop and print films at one shilling & three pence and a tobacco shop, almost on the bridge itself, which stocked glass jars of deliciously sweet smelling tobaccos, with names like Navy Twist and Old Black Shag but my interest then was in purchasing, from them, all the equipment required to start me fishing.

Howards, in Church Street, was an excellent bakers, in days when sliced or wrapped bread was unheard of. The fish shop, in Prospect Hill, had rather dubious stock and Mum preferred to get fish from Colebrooks in Reading, where it was “fresh off the train”. Meat was from Anstee’s in Church Road, where the floor was covered in sawdust and whole carcases hung around where you stood. They would split a entire animal down, in front of the customer, which was a horrifying education for a tiny boy.

I seem to remember a very grand Police Station on the other side of Church Road, or have I imagined this? Also there was a very small haberdashery shop in Church Street, which was, I believe, the last shop in Caversham to rely entirely on gas lamps. The older parts of the village had gas street lights but “The Heights” was equipped with the latest mercury vapour lamp standards, which gave out a pleasing blue light.

As I grew up there was little change in the immediate area, except that the rough flint and clay road of St Peter’s Avenue became tarmaced and the milk horse was replaced with a motor van. Richmond Road remained unsurfaced thoughout it’s length. The dramatic change, was that the lovely open fields to the east of Woodcote Way Stores, became developed with houses in two new roads, given the seemingly pointless names of Fernbrook and Wincroft. Later Blagraves Lane was to become encroached by Hewett Avenue. A vending machine was installed on Bridge Street, selling Fry’s “Five Boys” chocolate bars and took much of my pocket money.

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There were two cinemas, the Glendale and the Regal. These were opposite each other. I rarely used the Regal, as the best films were always at the privately owned Glendale, where the owner would stand by the exit to ask his customers, which film they would like him to order for the future. One had to be sure to take an umbrella into the Glendale in wet weather, because the roof leaked. Next to the Glendale was our only “fast food” supply, the Fish and Chip shop. Three halfpennies would get you a good size bag of chips but if a child only had one halfpenny in his or her pocket they would still give you some and “scraps” were free. I think fish was about 9d but not sure if that included chips. There was always a good choice of fish from rock salmon up.

My first job was at £3 a week, with Martin & Pole's Estate Agents on Bridge Street. While there, I got to know Caversham quite well and among many jobs, surveyed a number of terrace houses, which still had the old "Coppers" in the kitchens. These were built in clothes boilers, under which you lit a fire. I also collected rents from similar properties, some as low as 12/6d a week (about 62p in today’s money).

In my later work, at Bucklers engineers in Caversham Road circa 1963, I had to deliver a fast and very expensive Jensen sports car, to a client, who owned the Angel on the Bridge at Henley. I reached 100 mph on the Henley Road just before the Sonning turn. It was considered to be a very safe, fast piece of road in those days. Long and straight, with no traffic islands, traffic restrictions or speed limits and very little traffic (just as well!).

As my parent’s family grew up and moved away from home, my parents made a temporary move to a smaller house in Balmoral Drive but my father then, unexpectedly, died. Although still a teenager, I got married, not long afterwards, to a girl from Pangbourne, with “Beehive” backcombed hair and mini skirt. After a short time in dubious flats, we were forced to set up our home in another area, because Caversham had become too expensive for first time buyers (nothing has changed).

I now live close to the sea and mountains in the Isle of Man, with my wife, who no longer has “Beehive” hair. I miss most, the sound, heard from Woodcote Road, of the many steam trains in Reading shunting yards, heralding the New Year with a symphony of whistles.

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