MY LIFE

BY

A. VILLANIS

On June 27^th, eighty eight years ago, I was born in the City of Norwich so helping a very large family to become even larger! By present day standards it would be considered large since the majority of married couples these days adjust the size of their families to their income, they have only as many as they can comfortably feed, clothe and educate. Perhaps this is a wise undertaking but I know that each and everyone of a large family, in the days when I was young, was loved and wanted non the less for being one of so many. Perhaps the fact that father was the bread-winner and mother the homemaker had a lot to do with it, mother’s job was confined purely and simply to the welfare of her family and her home; she had no opportunity of working to help support her family and even if she had it is doubtful whether she would have wished to do so. We didn’t go short of anything, we enjoyed the necessities of life but there was little left over for luxuries.

Shoe-making was my father’s trade in which he was helped by two of my brothers and by my mother who make the tops of boots on her machine. I can well remember watching my father sole the bottoms of our shoes and he had no qualms either about soling our bottoms when we misbehaved!

The new schools of today are beautiful, with large, panoramic windows open to the sunshine and well laid playgrounds and vast playing-fields they must be a joy to go to; there were no schools like this when I was young. But the school I went to was one of the best, it would have been hard to find a better one anywhere. Big and roomy with two lovely playgrounds, one covered so that how ever wet the weather we could still take advantage of the fresh-air and play. There were two apple trees which we were not supposed to touch. But, like children the world over, it was a case of stolen fruits tasting sweeter and many is the time we have thrown a ball, accidently on purpose and brought those lovely apples down. For all these privileges we paid the handsome sup o one penny a week; on Monday all these pennies were collected and it was then my job to take these to somewhere nearby and change them into something not quite so heavy. I was only ten then so many, many years have passed but I can still remember my Headmistress’ name and the names of some of the teachers. I loved my school and was deeply grieved when I heard that it had been badly bombed during a raid in the last war, but out of evil comes good and in its place there is now a swimming pool so children will still be able to laugh and have fun where I spent so many enjoyable years.

We all had to go to Sunday School, I and all my brother and sisters and I was a member of the Band of Hope. Every summer we had a Sunday School treat and each and every one of us looked forward to this from the moment we knew it had been arranged; treats were so few and far between that to us all it was a very special occasion and my mother would make new gingham overalls for us to wear an the girls would have big straw hats decorated with buttercups and daisies. There were no cars or buses but I think the children of to-day would envy our means of transport; they would be thrilled at being able to travel in a coal-wagondrawn by a very spruced-up horse with brasses shining and his name plaited and tied with coloured ribbons. The wagons were cleaned from end to end and lined with clean straw, we were loaded aboard and off we went; perhaps to some Hall standing in lovely grounds. There we would have games then a nice tea, more games and as the sun began to set we would once again climb onto the wagons and tired, but very happy sing our way home.

Dad gave the family two treats a year and these were looked forward to all the year round. In the summer we would have one day by the sea, perhaps at Great Yarmouth, and we had great a fun on the sands and in the sea. At Christmas one day would be set on one side for a visit to the pantomime and this too was a day of great excitement.

I was fourteen when I started work in a shop selling tobacco and cigars; the shop was situated on ‘Tombland’ facing one entrance to the wonderful old Cathedral in Norwich I joined a Girl’s Club where different classes were held every night; theirs were very similar to the evening classes held now in schools all over the country. We could choose to do sewing, gymnastics or singing and dancing and the club had its own choir formed by the girls. We also had a Girls’ Band and the girls in this were very nice. I longed to join this band but there were no vacancies; then, one day, the side-drummer left to get married and I was asked whether I would like to join: “Oh yes” I said; I went to see the Bandmaster and the next thing I knew I was a member of the band. The funny thing was that although I had longed to join this band for so long I hadn’t a clue what to do if ever I got the chance but now I was in and I had a man to teach me to play; and it wasn’t long before I could do the ‘roll’ and various other movements which went together to make a drummer. Mr. Howlett, our Bandmaster, was a great musician but the band was a hobby; he wrote a great deal of the material for the band as well as leading it. Whenever we played we would find that the piano was out of tune so Mr. Howlett had a miniature piano made which traveled with us and was always kept in tune. The band was quite a large one consisting of four 1^st violins, one viola, 1 double bass and cello, a banjo, two cornets, a trombone, piccolo, flute, bass-drum, side-drum and for good measure, a triangle, tambourine, castanets, sleigh-bells anvil and whip which were all used in various pieces of music…We were inundated with requests to play at Garden Parties, Flower Shows, Concerts, Bazaars etc. and we had the great honour and pleasure of playing twice in the Royal Gardens at Sandringham. We played in the Public Gardens, the Castle and Chapel in the Field, at Yarmouth, Lowestoft, Cromer and all round Norfolk. We traveled in one of the old fashioned coaches, just like those we see on Christmas cards now; and whenever I see one of these cards now my mind goes back to those happy band days. All the instruments went inside the coach together with the Bandmaster, his wife and some of the girls whilst we younger ones climbed to the top to travel with the driver. As we passed through the main streets of the towns one of the girls would blow the Post Horn and I think it gave them a great deal of enjoyment. Our band became known as ‘Mr. Howlett’s Orchestral Band’ and when we gave a concert we had to do all we could to make it a success by playing solos on our instruments or, if asked, a vocal solo. In those days I could sing, though I doubt whether anyone would believe it if they could hear me now, but the solos I sang were descriptive flower songs and I remember one particularly which was about a French flower-girl. I wore the traditional costume, red skirt, white blouse with big sleeves, a black velvet corsage laced up the front, a coloured head-piece and I carried a basket of flowers. I little knew, when I sang that song, that I would marry a Frenchman. One of my favourite songs was ‘Won’t You Buy My pretty Flowers’. I could go on writing about the gears I spent with the band but it would take too long, suffice it to say that the fourteen years I spent with them were among the happiest of my life, we had such truly wonderful times. Now I can recapture the joy and pleasure they gave to me for so long.

Well, I married my Frenchman who was working in a restaurant in Norwich and in time we had three children; Vera, Phyllis and Joseph, who was named after his father, Josef Marcel. My husband never seemed to settle for long in one place but although moving constantly with three children was difficult, I went with him. When I realized that my fourth baby was on t he way we moved to a large flat in Fulham and strangely enough, the landlady was also French. She and her husband had no children but when she saw my brood she was thrilled and even gave up going out to work so that she could help me with them; when my baby, Stanley was four months old they were Godparents at his Christening. He was their favourite, they couldn’t do enough for him and as he grew older they took him everywhere; and when they went to America, they asked me if they could take him with them, he was only fifteen and a half. I realized that they could give him a life over there which we could never give him, that they loved him enough to make up for our not being there, and we let him go. It broke my hear to part with him but as the years have passed I have realized that I did what was best for him, he’s had a good life, married well, worked hard and had a pidgeon pair, now they are both married and have presented him with six grandchildren between them. I hear from him often and from his children but the happiest day of my life was one day nine years ago when he and his wife came over by air to see me; and last year his son, who is now a Captain in the U.S. Army was posted with is wife and three sweet little daughters, to Istanbul and they spent a very brief weekend in England on their way through all the family gathered and gave a lunch for them sot hat we should all have the opportunity to meeting them. We may see them again shortly if, as my grandson hopes, he is posted to Germany. Since Stanley was born I have had Marie and Lou and all my children have been good to me; I see them often and I see my grandchildren too, for I have six here in England.

When the first World War broke out it meant tragedy and heartbreak for many and although I had my share of these things I can find many things to smile about when I look back. The air raids stared and the outlook was pretty grim, but it was now that my husband chose to volunteer for active service. He went to the French Embassy but they refused to recognize his nationality because when he reached the age of twenty-one he had failed to return to France to complete his two years service with the French army. So, not to be outdone, he volunteered for the British army only to be told that being the father of six children he would have to remain at home until he received his yellow papers; and he had a long wait; on January 23^rd, 1917 he was called to the colours and ordered to report to Whitehall. He dressed in the clothes he usually wore in his job as a waiter; black suit with a stripe down the trousers and a white starched shirt and off he went. The raids were particularly bad that night, the children were all under the table near the fire with a mattress on the top to deaden the sound of the bombs but it was five o’clock in the morning before the ‘all-clear’ went. I gave the children a hot drink and got them all to bed again then I went to the front door. My neighbour saw me and said that a dreadful night it had been and I told her how worried I was about my husband, how he had to report at Whitehall and hadn’t been home since; immediately she said, “My dear he’s’ in the army!” and sure enough by the next post I had a postcard from him to say he was at Hounslow Barracks. I remember how foggy it was that day, and how the children’s godmother came to stay with them whilst one of my husband’s colleague’s came with me to Hounslow to see if we could see him…We waited a long time and were eventually told that he was on ‘fatigues’ but believe me he wasn’t the only one fatigued, so were we by the time we gave up and returned home; and what did we find when we got there? My husband! He had walked out of barracks with a working-party; he was to try it once more before they finally shanghaied him into the uniform of the Oxford and Bucks Light Infantry and put paid to his sudden attacks of homesickness! Shortly he was sent to Dover but he came home once from there before being posted overseas; he went abroad in A1 condition and was a first-class shot but months of standing in the cold, dirty water up to his knees had their effect and was discharged B2, his heart was affected. He finished his service as cook in the Officers’ Mess in Paris and whilst he was there he saw his mother, sisters and brothers several times for he was born in Aix le Bains. My husband’s father was a coachman who had the honour of driving King Edward when they lived in Cannes; the king died when my father was eleven years old. Things were very, very hard whilst my husband was with the forces in Belgium and I found it difficult to keep my children as I liked to keep them but by letting one of my bedrooms and by doing laundry, for one of the school teachers I was able to add to the bit my husband was able to send and with some help from their Godparents who helped to make their clothes I was able to keep them clean and tidy. I think the worst part was the scarceness of food and the long wait for the small amount we were able to get. In 1919 my husband came home and we were able to make something of family life again; our family grew up and married, some moved away from us but the Second World War seemed to bring them nearer home. Vera served in the Women’s Royal Air Force, Phyllis in the Red Cross, Joe in the Air Force and Lou in the Army. Joe was abroad in Italy and Lou spent five years in the Middle East, they all did their share and their father’s nationality made no difference to their volunteering for service or to their being called up; my younger son was in the Territorial Army long before war broke out and as a consequence was one of the first to go. My husband died in 1949 after forty-five years together, he was always a good husband and love his children dearly.

I have been down in the country twenty-five years and as the years have gone by all my children and their children have come close to me to live, two daughters are with me at home, my other daughter in Hight Wycombe, my son in Lewknor and my younger son in the Berkshire so I see them all frequently. I have made many good friends here and I had unexpected proof of this at Christmas 1963 when, after we had left the house to go down to my son’s home for Boxing Day, the house caught fire and the front room was almost completely destroyed; I lost many treasured possessions, things nothing can ever replace, they held memories of the years I spent with my husband, but friends at the Old People’s Club rallied round and enough money was collected to refurnish my front room so that once again it looks nice and I can have my family around me still.

Life is placid now, I don’t get around as much as I did five years ago but at eighty-eight I suppose that is only to be expected; my family say they can’t see themselves hopping around the way I do when they reach this grand old age, or even reaching this grand old age! Yes, I have had a happy, varied life, a great deal of worry, a great deal of happiness but perhaps having both has taught me to appreciate the moments of happiness more than I would had I never known worry and sadness. I do not regret any part of my life, each small happening has been one more thread added to the overall pattern and I can sit now and see it in it’s entirely spread out before me; God has let me live long enough to enjoy my thousands of memories, I have my family near to me, I have many friends; I could now wish for more.

I have in my possession a nightdress which was made by Queen May; made by hand the stitching is very beautifully done. In 1887 Queen Victoria celebrated her Silver Jubilee and I can remember how we children walked about two miles from the school to the Norwich Town Hall where we sang ‘We Pray for Thee Our Country’, ‘God Bless the Prince of Wales’ and ‘God Save Queen’. Queen Victoria, Queen May, Queen Elizabeth I and Queen Elizabeth II, four queens, four eras with an ever changing destiny of war and peace; sometimes I find it difficult to believe that I have lived through all this but I am glad now that I did, I have seen so much, more then I ever would have seen had my lifetime been confined to the reign of one monarch as it would have been had I been born in the early part of the century when Queen Victoria came to the throne.