On May 1st 1936 I left this job and returned home. I found that my youngest brother Gerald had been in trouble with the police and mother was sick with worry about it. Father had left his good job and they all moved to Kinsclere, Hants – eight miles from Newbury and about 8 miles from Basingstoke. He tried to start his own nursery business without enough capital.

Before they had moved from Donnington, Laurence had passed the exam to go to the Newbury Grammar School, but father said that he could not afford the uniform at £15 so Laurence went back to the local school at Shaw. Mr. Gaythrorn-Hardy of Donnington Priory said to our father “I am glad to hear that your son is going to the grammar school.” Father said that he could not go because of the cost. Mr Gaythrorn-Hardy seemed to be very annoyed and said the boy ought to have his chance. He asked how much the cost was and Father said it was £15 per annum. Mr. Gaythrorn-Hardy said he would pay. So after two week Father had to walk with Laurence to buy his uniform. The first day that Laurence went to the grammar school a boy tried to give him a good hiding so Laurence had to fight back. Then the head boy caned him on the back side, poor sod! He never had any money for trips and he never had a proper school tie, only a black one. On Saturdays in summer Laurence used to be the official scorer at the local Donnington cricket club. This meant that every other week he went to various other villages around Berkshire for cricket matches.


Having returned home I tried to get a job outside domestic services but failed, so I got a job with Mr and Mrs Lionel Cohen at Hollington House, Wootton Hill, near Newbury. They had fourteen inside servants, seven gardeners, two Rolls Royce in ‘Golden Brown’ with two chauffeurs with matching uniforms. All the inside staff had uniforms including housemaids and kitchen staff. In the houses were lovely, costly pictures of their racehorses. They had one daughter and one son; they were the ‘new rich’. Mr Lionel Cohen was one of three brothers who started the Cohen’s of Liverpool, Manchester and Leicester. Mr White, the butler, told me that the Cohens had got their fortune by selling on the ‘margin’ and that anything that did not sell well was got rid of at a cut price. Mr Cohen used to spend a week in each department and if more than three members of the public per day went into the shop when he was there without buying anything then the manager was sacked.

I got friendly with a maid, Connie Baldwin. I suppose that if I could have a good job with prospects then we might have married! Before 1939 the best jobs for men were printing – very difficult unless you knew somebody in the trade; the Police, in which you got £3 p/w a police house and a pension; Civil Service and Local Government Service; and an apprenticeship in the building trade. For this your parents had to produce £20 for the Apprentice Document, the boy received a pittance of wages until he becomes 21 years and his parents obliged to subsidise him. Being a member of a large family was not easy either for the parents or the children.

Mr White told me that I must work for Mr Cohen for a year before Mr Cohen would give a written reference and that if I left before this I would not be able to get another job! I told Mr White to “stuff his job!” and gave him a month’s notice to leave Mr Cohen’s employment. I then worked for a German Jewish banking family who had managed to get out of Germany with all or most of their wealth. This was at Stargrove, East Woodhay, Newbury about two miles from the Cohen’s house. I had a fight in the dining room on Friday evening and on the Saturday morning I was on my way home with my suitcase, a small cheque and my cards. I am pleased to say that I won the fight, I don’t believe in being pushed around.

For the next two years I got short period jobs on a weekly basis at a higher rate. Generally speaking though domestic service was paid on a monthly basis by cash and not cheque. Although I have accepted money by cheque it was not a good idea since most servants did not have a bank account. In London I knew of a number of servants agencies such as Hunt’s Stewart’s, and Campbell’s where one could find work. The Morning Post, a good quality Tory newspaper, now no longer in print, had on its back page many adverts for domestic servants. It would describe the position such as fourth housemaid, or first footman together with details of the service and how many staff there were in the household. The names of domestic agencies were also advertised and people seeking employment could also advertise there.

I therefore went to London on the following Monday and got a temporary domestic job from an agency opposite Selfridges. The job was for ten weeks at 25s per week for a Lt. Col. Howard-Bury at his estate a few miles from Mullingar, Westmeath, Ireland. He owned a castle, two large houses and this pleasant house in Ireland where we were to live. He owned a lot of Westmeath and could look around his estate and say “this is mine”. Mr E de Valere, the Irish Prime Minister, forced such ‘absentee landlords’ by Irish Law to spend some of their time and money in Ireland. The Colonel also had a flat in London and a home in Tunisia. He had been a prisoner of war in the 1914-1918 war, although even then he had his own batman, and in 1922 and 1924 he helped to organise and took part in expeditions to Mount Everest. He became the Member of Parliament for Chelmsford, Essex from 1929 to 1931

We travelled from London to Liverpool in his Bull-Morris car with a temporary chauffeur, his chef from Tunisia and me. When we entered the steamer to Dublin, the Colonel had to get us a 1st class bunk for 35s, the chauffeur told me that generally speaking he went 1st class but that the staff travelled 3rd class at 12s 6d. I was pleased to be able to travel to Ireland and at about 11 p.m. I went to bed in my own cabin. I woke up at about 6 a.m. and had my first view of Ireland. The steamer was slowly steaming into Dublin Port. After the Colonel slipped a half crown to the customs officer, we went through the passport control very quickly. The customs official was most respectful to the Colonel as he made white chalk mark on our luggage. Soon the Colonel’s car and chauffeur was ready for the journey to Mulligar – about 50 miles away.

At around 8.30 a.m. we started through the centre of Dublin and we had rain not only that morning, but for next two weeks. I noted the humpy bridges, lots of donkeys, horses and ponies pulling either small carts or a sort of brougham. I remember a few people on the side of the road without any boots or shoes. I was suitably shocked to see a mother kissing her two daughters goodbye in the rain on their way to school and all of them had no shoes, no coats and no hats. I thought how well off people in England were by comparison, even in the 1930’s. When we reached Mulligar we only had to go another few miles to get to the Colonel’s estate. Life was quiet there and in the front of his house there was a great body of water called Lake Ennel, three miles long one mile broad. The house had a housekeeper who was also a sort of general servant. She sometimes did the cooking for us and sometimes it often consisted only of potatoes but they were so well prepared that I enjoyed them.


I had to walk four miles to visit Mulligar. On the way there I used to pass a small cottage of only two rooms; the bedroom had a dirt floor. The main building was the new Roman Catholic cathedral – quite a fine building. Every Thursday small holders used to come to the town and sell their butter, eggs, chicken, fruit and vegetables etc. on the pavement. I noted that the pubs seemed to be open all day. Lots of people in Mullingar had bare feet, no coats or hats but were very nice and jovial. They used to say “how is himself today”. I found life in Ireland in 1936 very interesting. The priest had more influence than the police. A young garden boy of about 17 asked me if I would fight him; just a friendly fight he said but I refused.

The Colonel would go away, travelling around Ireland visiting other people’s homes. When this happened I had little or no work to do and so I either went out visiting the surrounding countryside, swam in the lake or read some of the Colonel’s books. He told me not to read them, of course I still read them but I had to hide my reading spectacles! When the Colonel was home he invited quite a lot of the local rich people to come for lunch, tea or dinner. I had to wait on them, a job I had done for a few years. Sometimes when he was alone at lunch or dinner I would chat with him while I was serving. One day I commented that in more and more schools in England working class children were being taught the French or German and I told him that I believed in that! He told me that he did not agree and said that the working class were becoming far too educated! I did not pursue the discussion; it would not do any good. On another day I asked him if he had enjoyed being a Member of Parliament and he said it was “a bore”.

One day he let me go and see a large fortified house that his ancestors had built. It was empty, too big for his staff. It was very impressive with the great stairs and coloured glass. At the back there were still the brougham, the brake; the other carriages; and other items from a different age. At the top of the building were the rooms of the female staff and in the basement were the male rooms. I suppose it is now seen by member of the public to help to pay for its upkeep. In September 1936 it was only seen by myself, the housekeeper and the Colonel.

On one occasion a Lord Grantford, an Irish lord and a member of the Court of Buckingham Palace came for lunch with the Colonel. His title was ‘Gold Stick’ and I understood that he would be involved in the organising of the services to do with the crowning of King Edward VIII. He seemed to be depressed by the troubles of a ‘he’ and ‘her’. I listened carefully and understood that ‘he’ was King Edward VIII and ‘her’ was Mrs Simpson. He seemed to think that King Edward might not be crowned. It was all quite interesting to listen to.

On July 1936 in Spain, the Spanish Civil War started; it ended in March 1939 with the success of the Franco Nationalist Forces, helped by the German and Italian Governments and the defeat of the legal Republican Government forces. It was a bloody civil war in which a great deal of cruelty took place on both sides. I used to listen every day on the wireless and buy newspapers to read about the war. I supported the legal republican Government side of the arguments and I felt that sooner of later the British Forces would be involved again in the war with Germany. I used to think that I would probably be killed in France in that war. The thought was dreadful and in our country there was a strong conscientious movement against war. I did at one time think about volunteering to fight with the Republic. I also considered joining the communist party but someone told me that I would be permanently on a police file and so I decided against it.

I used to ‘chat’ to the Colonel’s head gardener who told me that he received 37s 6d per week plus a cottage. Most head gardeners in England normally received £2 10s plus accommodation. He told me that he had once listened to a speech by Mr De Valera, the Prime Minister. De Valera was the son of a Spanish father and an Irish mother. He took part in the Easter Rebellion in 1916 but was not executed because he was an American citizen. He became Prime Minister in 1932 and did a great deal of good for Ireland.

In early October, the Colonel and his staff left his Irish estate and went back to Dublin for the steamer. The Colonel gave me a 12s 6d ticket to Liverpool – that was 10s for my place in the steamer and 2s 6d for a bunk. All around me were lots of Irish men and families going to try their fortune in England. Quite a lot of the men seemed to be full of Guinness and seemed to be the ‘worse for drink’. I was pleased to get back to Liverpool. When we got back to London the Colonel paid me off and I went home to my parents.