The Life Story of Constance Green

The Life Story

of

Constance Green

The Life Story of Constance Green ( nee Kirk )






Connie at 25 years old, 1940




My name is Constance Green ( nee Kirk ) and I am the eldest child of Charles
Henry Kirk and Eliza Kirk ( nee Hewitt ). I was born during the first Great World
War on 19th September 1915. This was in Leeds, Yorkshire, England.

My parents’ wedding date was on December 19th 1914 and so my birth
date was a standing joke with my mother who always said ’nine months to the
day!’ My father had been brought up by his grandparents, took on their surname
of Thwaites but reverted to Kirk when he married.

I never knew my mother’s father, my grandfather, although quietly and
secretly told that he had drunk himself to death. He was Peter Newby Hewitt
born 4.11.1868 and he died not long after my birth in October 1915. At age 47,
that was a short life even for those days.

This is the only photo I can find of my maternal grandmother. We used to
visit her often, especially on Sunday afternoons.

My Father



My father, Charles Henry Kirk, was born at Shadwell, then a country

village near Leeds, on 21st March 1889. His mother was Annie Thwaites ( or

Twaites ) born 1867 and his father was George Jesse Kirk. After an extensive
search, we are still not sure but believe he was born in 1829 and died in 1891.

In hindsight, I know that my father was a very clever man and we were
very lucky. When he was able (according to his shift work on the railways) he
would take us on walks or short rambles round the countryside. As he had a keen
interest in nature, he would point out all the different trees, birds, wild flowers
and so on. He also read a lot so he was very interesting.
He was employed as a Carriage and Wagon Examiner by the LMS Railway
(London, Midland and Scottish Railway) which is, today, British Rail. As
transport was vital for the war effort, he was not enlisted. The pay was not great,
and the work, as explained to me, consisted of tapping the trains’ wheels with a
large hammer to see if they ‘rang true.’ Of course, this meant a lot of jumping up
and down from platform to rails as the trains arrived at his station, which was
Leeds Central.
There was also the appropriate form to complete for each train departure
and he did these in beautiful copperplate writing – they were works of art. All
his writing was the same, lovely to look at, but I don’t remember getting any
letters or birthday greetings from him, that was always understood to be my
mother’s responsibility.
Our home was full of very delicate fretwork and cabinet work done in his
spare time as a hobby. There were special ones to house his latest ‘wireless set’.
Wireless sets were also one of his special interests, and he read up about them so
he had the knowledge to make them. This meant that we were extra privileged -

none of our friends and neighbours were able to buy them as, at the time, they

were too expensive
With his first efforts, he used to take the wireless sets on our walks, hitch
the aerials to a suitable branch of a tree and we would sit underneath the tree
and try to be very quiet and listen. Sometimes it was a long time before there
were any results and the content was not always suitable for us, but we thought
it was marvellous and enjoyed it very much.
The next stage was more sophisticated and we could listen at home with
headphones. We only had two pairs of these, however, so there was always a
mad rush for them and our parents had priority, of course. If we had misbehaved
in any way, one of our punishments was to miss out on using the headphones.
Father’s special place was the allotment, a piece of ground not far from
where we lived at Harehills. He had a small shed there and a couple of folding
chairs. There were a few flower borders but he mostly grew vegetables there,
which were very much appreciated, especially in war time. Now and again we
were allowed to go there with him, but not too often as we were a bit of a
nuisance – too many of us around the same age. In any case, it was then
considered a wife’s job to take full care of the children.
We lived in a street of terrace houses, all at weekly rent. Ours had a
downstairs lavatory one side of the steps and a coal house at the other side. On

the first floor was the kitchen and living room, upstairs were the bedrooms and
at the top were the attics. I believe one side of the attics was used as a bedroom
but the rest was used for dad’s canaries and their breeding. They were mostly
‘roller’ canaries and very good singers., but some of them preferred company.
One favourite in the living room use to trill away nearly all day but pined and
died when my mother went away for a few days.

I have three younger sisters and a brother, and I guess my father was hoping for
a boy each time, so he had some toys ready. Quite early on, he made me a
smashing scooter, which had proper wheels with tyres and a brake. It was
difficult for me to play with, as when the rest of the street’s children saw it, they
all wanted a turn! But that was nothing compared to me carriage contraption.
This was made for one person, seated, and then by pulling a lever backwards and
forwards it would travel similar to a miniature car and it could be steered, too.
This became very popular, too, and what with sisters and friends, I never seemed
to be able to play with it myself for many minutes. You may wonder what all the
fuss was about but we did not have – or even see – the multitude of toys that are
available today.

My father’s shift work meant that we didn’t see a lot of him. He often worked
through the night which entailed sleeping during the day and we all had to keep
quiet, which was quite difficult for young children.
We were brought up under the strict discipline of my mother and she often
threatened to tell Dad about our misbehaviour, but we didn’t take much notice of
that. He never raised his voice to us or to her. The worst word I ever heard him
say was: ‘Confound the thing.’

Another of his indoor pastimes was playing ‘whist’ – both our parents

were mad about the game. And as soon as we were old enough to count, we were
drawn in to play, to ‘make a four up’. A result of this was that after I was
married, it was years before I could look at a playing card. I had even been to
professional games from about eleven years old. Both parents held ‘inquests’
after our games and could tell you what you had in your hand and what you
should have played etc. we had duck Christmas dinner every year as mother
managed to win one at the local whist drive. In our family we used to call our
parents ‘Wireless Willie’ and ‘Whist drive Liz’ but made sure what mood mum
was in before she heard you.

This is the earliest snap I have of my father. Naturally, the camera belonged to
him, so he was the one who knew how to use it and he was usually behind the
scenes. I can just recall when he had the type of camera that needed a separate
plate for each photo. There was a hood in front to keep out unwanted light and,
when you looked through the viewing part, everything was upside down, which
complicated things a little. We were positioned and told to keep perfectly still for
a certain number of seconds which always seemed like hours. Later he
progressed to a box type ‘Brownie’.

This photo is taken outside the shed at the allotment, my sister Winnie standing
at his side and my youngest sister, Edna, on his knee. I see he was wearing a
moustache at this time. He had thick, dark brown hair, which he kept all his life.
What about our hats? Aren’t they just fetching? We four girls were often dressed
alike.






We never knew any of my father’s relatives. It seems they had all died before I
was born. Occasionally there was mention of his sister who died fairly young.

My father was a quiet, thoughtful chap, a bit of a loner and not very
demonstrative. I imagine, with a family of four girls and one boy, he needed a
little privacy at his allotment and some precious time alone with his canaries.

My mother


Mother was the eldest daughter of a big family, mostly female, so I had lots of
aunts and only one uncle. She was a clever woman but clever in a way entirely
different from my father. She was quick and smart and always busy either
sewing, knitting or crocheting whenever she had finished the housework. She
was always in paid work. When she couldn’t go out to work when we were
babies, she took work in to make extra cash. Apart from that, she always had a
project on hand.

I can recall very little of my preschool days, but I do know that I was not
mistreated in any way. I can remember lullabies and most of a verse my mother
sang:

‘Two little eyes blinking at me
Two little ears like shells by the sea
Two chubby toes as .…. as can be,
That’s mother’s baby, everyone can see.’

Since this was chanted to all the youngsters in their turn and there were
five of us, it would be amazing if I didn’t remember some of it!
As I am only five years older than Edna, my youngest sister, we four girls
were all babies at the same time. ‘Four of ‘em in five years’ was a frequently
heard saying. As we grew out of our baby stage, my mother was quite proud of
this and often dressed us alike to emphasise. She usually bought the material,
made dresses and embroidered them. I’ve also known her to knit all four outfits
alike, which included dress, hat and gloves. We all learned to knit pretty early
and Edna and I have been knitters all our lives.
There was another project always on the go and especially in the cooler
weather. There were no excuses. We all had to help make the cloth rugs by
poking holes in coarse canvas with a sharp instrument and inserting pre-cut
pieces of material in the holes. We usually did this in the evenings, sitting around
the fireside. The canvas was large with enough space for four or five of us to
work in. The material we used was from all the family’s worn out coats, jackets,
skirts, all cut up into pieces by our mother. The main part of the rug would have
dull colours but the centre and fancy corners would have bright colours and our
parents would do these sections. The latest rug would adorn the living room and
there was eventually a switch around so the oldest rug was thrown out or put up
in the attic.
These rugs were a big part of the housework as they had to be taken
outside and given a good shake every day, then the lion underneath had to be
washed by hand. This was before the days of vacuums, fitted carpets, fridges and
electric cookers. One of the worst chores was black leading the fireplace. At the
centre of the fireplace was the open fire with ashes to be raked out each day
before remaking. To the left there was a hob where a large kettle was kept,
forever near to boiling point, and to the right was the oven.
I must say I can remember some really good food coming out of this oven,
but it wasn’t easy to get the right temperature and maintain it for as long as
necessary. To ‘know your oven’ meant something then. Best of all were the
Yorkshire puddings we always had on Sundays with plenty of gravy. Everyone

makes them differently but ours were light and risen and appetising. They were
cooked in a large dish then divided up after cooking. There was always an extra
piece left for my father to have cold for his supper, with beef dripping or jam!

Another treat we looked forward to each week was baking day. Mother
made four oven cakes especially for us with our initials on them so we didn’t
squabble over the biggest. She also made loaves of bread for the family and we
ate the first one fresh from the oven with lashings of melted butter. I could eat
one right now! When we were deemed old enough, we were put in charge of the
baking. I only did pies and cakes while Edna took over the bread making and did
a good job of it until she left to get married.


Here is a ‘before marriage’ photo of my mother. You can see what a fine looking
woman she was.

This photo was also taken outside my father’s shed at the allotment. This time I
am standing and my sister Annie is on my mother’s knee.






There is a special story about these old photos. After my father’s death, the film
negatives were found by my brother, Charlie, who was in the Leeds Camera Club
and an expert at printing and developing. The negatives had not been looked
after, but we were fortunate Charlie was able to save some of them.

Family Life



We had a large fireguard around the fireplace at night and usually a clothes
horse left there with wet articles to dry or to ‘air off’. As there was no heating
upstairs, the flat iron, bricks and oven plates were heated in the oven, then
wrapped in material or a small towel and used to warm our beds on cold nights.
Our kitchen was behind the living room and called the scullery. I can
vividly remember the large bath, which, through the day, had a board on top,
which enabled it to be used as a table. There was also a huge ‘set pot’, a large iron
pot kept covered with a wooden top when not in use. This set pot was filled
manually with boiling water and then the washing and the soap. We didn’t have
soap powder or soap flakes – I think we just used up the odds and ends of the
Sunlight soap bars. The washing had to be pushed around by a ‘posser’, which
was a type of stick with a rounded end. The rounded end had holes in it so when
it was pushed up and down in the ‘set pot’ with the hot water and clothes, it
made a lather and the motion helped to clean the clothes.
Mother always made us new outfits for Whitsuntide to wear on the
church outing, complete with little hats with flowers and a little cane stick. If
your attendance at Sunday school was poor, you were not included in the outing
but my mother made sure we were off to Sunday school every Sunday morning
without fail. On the outing, we were taken on the backs of lorries to a nearby
field where there were three legged races, sack races and sprinting. After this we
had lemonade or mineral water and small cakes and tarts.

Our parents were never demonstrative in affection, but on the other hand, they
never seemed to quarrel either. Their roles were very clearly defined. Father did
not do anything in the way of housework or looking after the children - that was
mother’s domain. Mother was very good at delegating chores as soon as we were
old enough or when she saw any ability in any special direction.
She was a very strict disciplinarian. Her word was law, and when I lived at
home, I would never dream of ‘answering back’ or disobeying her. More than
once I must have looked mutinous and she used to say: ‘and I know what you’re
thinking and you can stop that right now!’ We were told immediately when we
omitted to do something or did something that was not allowed – but for praise,
that was lacking. However, when she talked to her friends or relatives about us,
we were all little marvels!
We all walked before nine moths old, started talking before out first
birthday and later on we were very clever at reading. We started school at three
years of age and I could read by the time I was five years old. I’ve always been a
bookworm and it still stands me in good stead. This was more the example of my
father’s reading – my mother wasn’t interested in reading even when she had the
time later on when we were all older.
I absolutely loved school, eager every morning to go there, a right goody-
goody, and forever a pain tin the neck to my sister Annie, our second oldest.
Since I was the eldest, my main purpose in life, according to mother, was to be an
example to the other three girls. Since we were conditioned to do what we were
told without questioning, I did my best, but often fell far short.

This might sound strange, but until the age of twenty and my marriage, I
was painfully shy and this often came out in a nervous giggle as well as an
obvious blush. Often we children would be brought together and confronted with
our minor misdeeds. And - guilty or not - my nervous giggle would pronounce
my guilt! My sister Annie was usually the guilty one but she thoroughly enjoyed
my dilemma.

Living in a street of terraced houses, we had plenty of other children to
play with and one large family was the Morelands who lived opposite to us. We
played our usual games of ‘Beddy Lisha’ or ‘Relieve O’. This was a type of ‘hide
and seek’ where a ‘den’ was marked out in the pavement and there were two
separate sides – one lot went off to hide and the other to seek and put captives in
the den. If, without being caught, you could run across the den shouting ‘Beddy
Lisha’ then all your captive friends could be released to go into hiding again, so
this game could last all evening or until we were called in at bedtime.

We seemed to have a lot more time to play after school as I don’t
remember doing homework until going to high school at eleven years old. Also,
due to daylight saving, it was usually light until 8pm and often until 10pm.

We did a lot of skipping, singly or sharing with others, using a large rope.
As we were skipping, we used to sing little rhymes:

‘I don’t want to play in your yard
I don’t love you any more
You’ll be sorry when you see me
Swinging on the old back door.’

and:

‘My mother said that I never should
Play with the gypsies in the wood
If I did, she would say
Naughty girl to disobey.’

Hopscotch chalked on the pavement was a favourite as well and, as
mother was a tailoress, we had plenty of chalk. Many happy hours were also
spent playing with spinning tops made of wood. We put colours on the tops to
see what patterns were made whilst spinning. Playing ‘shop’ and smashing up
stones to make different coloured powders was also fun.

My mother and her five sisters: from top left: Florrie, Edna, Doris, my
mother Eliza, Lily and Gladys

Me and my three sisters: Connie ( me ) on the left, Edna and Winnie,
sitting down, and Annie, standing up on the right.

We were all given lots of instructions in manners, especially when to say ‘please’
and ‘thank you’. If we asked for anything without these magic words, there were
no two ways about it: nothing was forthcoming. We were taught to have respect
for our elders and when taken out, we behaved like quiet little angels. We knew
there would be no treat given or there would be a cancellation of a future outing
if we did not behave. As I said, my mother’s word was law and she was
consistent. Her ‘no’ meant ‘no’ and was not altered or even debated upon.
Each year there were traditions we celebrated such as Guy Fawkes Night
on November 5th. Every street in our area had a bonfire and there was quite a
competition for which street had the best and biggest bonfire on the night. We
had lots of fun and games weeks before this event, just gathering as much wood
and junk for our own street’s fire. Sometimes it got to such a pitch, we had to
guard our kindling and wood against raids from gangs on other streets! The
fireworks were good to watch but we were only allowed to hold a few sparklers.
The potatoes roasted at the foot of the fire were black and grubby but delicious
eaten in the firelight. We also got together in groups at Christmas time, singing
carols door to door, hoping some of the owners would listen and give us some
copper coins.
Every year there was one day allotted for Childrens’ Day in the large park
nearest to us, Roundhay Park. Most schools in the area put on a display of
gymnastics or dancing. Our school, Brownhill School, put on a display of
eurythmic dancing and we were taught the routine during school time. I was one
of those chosen to perform. The tall girls wore orange and bright blue costumes
but I was with the smaller girls in red. In one dance we were supposed to make
shapes as flowers and in another ( as you can see in the photo ) we were
galloping horses with our riders! It was a huge arena, so quite a spectacle, but
after the initial nervousness, we enjoyed ourselves. There was one horrid part,
though, at the beginning when we had to position ourselves on the grass and
wait for the music to begin before we could arise. If your mark happened to be
on a worm or snail, you still had to wait there – I kept an eye on a worm, which
was wending its way towards me!



Roundhay Park arena, Chidren’s Day

Galloping horses at Childrens’ Day in Roundhay Park, Yorkshire
( I’m second across on the front row )

The four terrors – back: Connie and Annie / front: Winnie and Edna





The four girls again – on our steps at Sutherland Terrace, Harehills, Yorkshire
at back: Annie and Connie and at front: Winnie and Edna

Two early photos of my youngest sister, Edna. Isn’t she sweet?

Growing Up



I was raised to be a good girl in a male oriented society. I only decided I could
have my own opinions and rely upon them when given supervisory positions at
work. I was unable to finish out my full time at Grammar School which I always
regretted, but at least it started me on the way to becoming an independent
thinker even if not voiced. Also I am a realist and a great believer in practising
what I preach.
We were sent off to Sunday school without fail when we lived at home,
my mother thankful for a morning without us around, giving her time to attend
to my young brother Charlie. Yes, seven years after having four daughters, a son
was born!
I don’t think I got any particular spiritual message from my church going.
My most vivid recollection is seeing the vicar on the edge of the ‘stage’ wringing
his hands, swinging to and fro. He couldn’t pronounce his r’s properly so he
lamented: ‘The poor parwish of Saint Awlbans!’ and looked as though he would
fall over from all his swaying, but he never did. Another memory was my aunt’s
singing in the choir like a soloist. I thought it was terrible – very loud with trills
and wobbly notes, very embarrassing. I pretended not to know her.

We put our religion down as Church of England on any documents but
apart from weddings, I haven’t attended any church services since my marriage.

There was no talk of racism in my younger days. We didn’t know any
‘coloured’ people and there were none living anywhere near us back then. This
was long before the mass immigration of West Indians and Pakistanis and other
ethnic groups to the U.K. However, my mother was once heard to say: ‘although
we have no coloured bias in the family, I wouldn’t want one of my daughters to
marry a coloured man’ - so there was some prejudice.

Between World War 1 and World War 2 there was very little travelling
about the country for ordinary folk with 8am to 6pm jobs. There was often only a
week of paid holiday a year and train or bus travel was very expensive. For our
family and friends, living in or near Leeds, a week’s holiday at either Blackpool or
Scarborough was as much as we could manage on our savings. Blackpool, over
the Penine Range and into Lancashire, was the favourite with the younger ones
( we were teenagers but not called that then ) because it had an extensive
Funland there and a little more night life than at Scarborough and Robin Hood’s
Bay.
August Bank Holiday was the main holiday time for Leeds people so you
actually found all your friends and relations at the same holiday resort at the
same time! We stayed in boarding houses, provided our own food and the
landlady cooked it for us. This was the cheapest way apart from camping.

When I was about nine or ten years old, I was allowed to go with other friends or
sisters to nearby parks or fields and take a picnic. At that time we still lived at
Sutherland Terrace in Harehills, a district of North East Leeds in Yorkshire. The
districts nearest to ours were Shadwell and Roundhay, but there was a lot of
open ground - small farms and fields - inbetween. Now it’s all housing.
We usually went to Harehills Park where we had our special places. Our drinks
were a bottle of water each with a stick of licorice in, which we kept shaking to

make the water tasty! If we were lucky we might have some home made
lemonade and a sumptuous feast of jam and bread!
My early pocket money was one penny a week. This was not easily spent –
there was a reasonable choice of treats and care had to be taken. For a penny we
could buy four Gobstoppers ( large coloured balls of sugar that only just fit inside
one’s mouth ) or a bag of sherbet ( fizzy lemon flavoured powder ) with a stick of
licorice in it or licorice in long thin strips etc.

At home, there was a lot of ironing to be done using a flat iron heated on the fire
and sometimes in the oven. As thi was a dangerous procedure, we were not
allowed to do this until ten or eleven years of age. Our home was lit by gas
downstairs and the mantles used were very frail. We often had to go the local
shop to buy a new mantle, with strict instructions to come straight back and be
very careful with it.

At school, I continued to enjoy the lessons, especially English. I thought
this was my best subject but one day, when our class teacher was absent, one of
our class ‘dare devils’ looked up our reports and my report said that arithmetic
was my best subject. So from that moment on, I felt that I was good with figures
( numbers ) and this was a huge influence on my working life.

There was a special scholarship examination for children at age eleven
called the eleven plus. These scholarships were awarded by the Leeds City
Council and only a few were awarded each year. Only those with good
qualifications were allowed to enter and I was one of the chosen few from our
school which was Brownhill Council School. The scholarship winners would be
able to go to High School to further their education without paying school fees.
These fees were definitely beyond the financial capacity of my parents. In
addition, there would be incidental costs such as uniforms, and this caused my
parents much anxiety. It was such an honour however, that they decided to allow
me to become a candidate. I felt confident with my written exam but still
painfully shy with the oral exam. But evidently I got enough marks to pass! As
Brownhill school was a good school, two fellow students were successful:
Marjorie Sunter and Marjorie Sykes.
The high school chosen for us was Roundhay High School, which we
thought was very posh, was only for girls. The Boys Grammar School in the
adjoining grounds, was out of bounds and no socialising allowed. On our first day
there, we made friends with another scholarship girl, Muriel Mole, and the four
of us had our own little clique. The rest of the students had been at the school for
years, knew the teachers, played tennis and hockey and were wealthy. They
knew they were superior to us and lost no chance to let us know this too. They
put us ‘right on our metal’ but we showed them by continually beating them at
all the subjects.
Muriel and I used to be top of the form in most subjects and Marjorie
Sunter, a well-built girl, soon started to show them all up on the hockey field.
I now wish I had kept my first tennis racket - it would be a sight to behold! It was
wooden with a fish tail, which was a peculiar shaped handle, very thick and
curved. It would be worth a mint today and a laughing stock to the professionals.
It was even second hand when I got it, a new one considered too expensive for a
mere sport. I think my hockey stick was a new one, but since Winnie ( Winnifred,

third daughter ) also won a scholarship in her turn and was educated at the same
High School, she most likely had to do her best with my cast-offs.

When I was eleven years old, another major decision was taken by my parents,
which influenced our lives. They were able to rent a house on the Sutton Trust
Estate at Seacroft. These were only available to families with a certain number of
children with limited incomes. The change was great in lots of ways. We were
now in a semi-detached house with a garden both back and front. All the rooms
were larger, there was no attic and no cellar and the house cleaning was much
easier. We also had electricity and the house ( 29 Sunnydene ) was in a corner
position and very pleasant.
There was a tennis court behind our garden and an estate manager lived
on site, taking the rent and doing general maintenance. Tenants formed a
working committee and various jobs allotted on a volunteer basis. My mum
volunteered to look after the tennis court for so many days a month as our
family’s share. This entailed taking bookings and this chore soon became my sole
responsibility, which pleased me as I could then avoid the weekly baking of cakes
and pies.

My great friend at this time was Lily Wright who also lived on Sunnydene.
She played tennis and often helped me make up a game of four. She was very
attractive and outgoing and very popular among the men. Her mother always
‘saddled’ her with a younger child to look after and otherwise, unless she was
with me, she was grounded. I was such a sensible, serious person at that time
that I was a trusted chaperone! It usually worked out that she had her choice of
men and I got the ones she didn’t want or the ones still hoping.




Connie & Lillian on the tennis court, aged 15

This new address, on the Seacroft Estate, was in the country at the time

and meant that my sisters and I went to different schools. I went straight to
Roundhay High School, but my three sisters went to Crossgates Council School
which was a fair walk and meant that they made new friends and I wasn’t often
included. This was partly because I had a set amount of homework to complete
each night. Of course I got to know all the tennis players and mostly they were
young men.

Some of the teachers at Grammar school were memorable, in particular Miss
Henry, the geography mistress. If we asked any questions about the Great War,
she would talk for ages about her experience in the war. We only had to sit back
and listen, hoping she would forget to give us homework. In any case, it was
more interesting than learning about early English history about King Canute etc.
Our Latin mistress was a real terror. She was alarge woman who drilled us
unmercilessly: ‘amo, amas, amat’. She was fond of writing in large letters on the
blackboard ‘N.B.’ at the same time saying loudly ‘note bene!’ whilst patting
herself on the head! You can imagine how she was mocked and imitated by
everyone behind her back.

Our English teacher, Miss Brown, was well liked as she made the lessons
so interesting, even Shakespeare. She was well dressed, creative, easy to talk to if
you had any problems, and treated us all as reasonable people with minds of our
own. In short, a very good teacher and a good example for us.

My youngest sister, Edna, had taken a few piano lessons then given up, so – since
they were all paid for – I took the rest of them and learned to read music a little.
On one of our first music lessons at school, I had to stand up and sing a few notes
on my own and I was chosen to be in the school choir. This was a ‘thorn in the
flesh’ for my mother as she could ill afford the music sheets for the choir pieces.
Her cry was: ‘I wouldn’t care if you could sing a dirty note!’

The sad part is I love singing although I might sing a bit off key. Nowadays
I only sing in a crowd or if I’m at home by myself, but I love to hear my daughter
Wendy and granddaughters Sarah and Kate sing, also David’s wife Jan and
granddaughter Rachelle have lovely voices. A treasured memory is of Jan and her
mother and sisters singing together.

In our school choir we performed songs such as ‘Who Is Sylvia?’ and sang
with gusto:

‘Hark, hark, the lark at heaven’s gate sings
And Phoebus gains a rise, its needs to water at those springs,
On pallid flowers it dies, on pallid flowers it dies.’

We also had fun singing ‘roundalays’ where one section starts off with the
first line, the next section starts on the second line and so on. We often found
ourselves singing with the loudest group, completely missing our own lines. Near
Christmas, we’d be practising hymns: ‘For All the Saints’ and ‘To Be A Pilgrim.’

My friend Lillian was older than me, and more interested in the young men, but I
never understood why she liked some more than others. There was one I
thoroughly approved of called Frank Howden and I hoped Lily would soon tire of
him so he would notice me! Then suddenly Frank was gone and straight away
Lily was seen with an odd looking chap called Ernest Burden. I couldn’t see what
she ever saw in him after Frank, but she married him and became Mrs Burden, to
her sorrow – he led her a dog’s life, as the saying goes.





Connie in the middle 1932

Working Girl


My school scholarship should have taken me from 11years to 16 years but when
I was 14, money was very scarce at home and my mother requested that I leave
school and go to work. This was difficult, she had to see people, fill in lots of
forms and go to endless trouble before I could leave without paying
compensation. There was also a stipulation that I should have a suitable job to go
to before permission to leave was granted. This was found for me as a Wages
Clerk at the firm of Montague Burtons Ltd. in Hudson’s Road, back in Harehills.
My starting wage was the princely sum of ten shillings a week for a 48 hour
week. This sounds a pittance, but at the time, in 1929, it was very good, as the
usual wage for a girl straight from school was eight shillings per 48 hour week!

My first day at work was very painful because of my shyness, although I
made one very good friend with whom I am still friendly ( although at a distance
these days as she still lives in England and I am in Australia ) - her name is
Doreen Maltas and she was also a new girl.

Our wages were paid in the wages office in the trousers department of our huge
factory, as far away as possible from the main offices and main entrance to the
building. As each 100 batch of wage cards was finished ready for payment, these
had to be taken to Head Office. Doreen and I took turns at this – though the
trousers dept, through the vest dept, then the jacket dept and lastly the cutting
room. We were not allowed to do all this in peace - there were whistles and calls
most of the way, the worst being in the cutting room, which had more male
workers. As I was still a blusher, I was a good target and it took me a long time to
learn to ignore the remarks.

There were about 8 of us in our wages office and the boss was Miss Pitts,
a devout Roman Catholic who went to mass every morning before coming to
work. This was my first meeting with a Catholic and she was enough to put me
against the religion forever. She often went to ‘confession’ but she was such a
liar, we wondered why and for what purpose. Another girl who worked with us
was called Alice. She was a bit older than the rest of us and at lunch one day, she
told Doreen and I that she would never marry anyone who earned less than ten
pounds a week! Three pounds a week was a good wage then, so you can imagine
how horrified we were – what a mercenary person, we thought. I would love to
know if she did eventually marry and how much money he earned.

I worked at Burtons for two years and the work was reasonably easy as it
was mostly dealing with figures. A lot of the work was repetitive and the
machines were had models which we despised because we could add up and
divide etc quicker than we could handle the machines. The part where we put
the actual cash into the buff coloured wage packets was the best and the
highlight of the week.

My first wage packet was quite an event. I hurried home to present it in
all its glory, unopened of course, and was very pleased to receive even a small
amount back in pocket money.

The work canteen at lunchtime was massive with queues to rival modern
day supermarket check out queues. If she was in a good mood, Miss Pitts allowed
us to leave a minute ahead of the factory buzzer so we could get ahead in the
queue for our pot of tea. This was my first introduction to tea and I didn’t like it
one little bit – a large pot of tea with milk and sugar. At home, we were only
allowed water or milk. Here in the canteen it was tea or nothing, so I grew to
enjoy it and soon expected tea at home with the other workers.

I gather that my grandfather’s early death, attributed to alcohol, had a
huge influence on my parents and my mother’s family generally, for they were all
tee-total. We were not given any lectures against drinking, just the example. The
‘demon’ drink was only introduced into our home when medically advised. My
mother was diagnosed as a ‘pernicious anaemia’ sufferer in her sixties and, in
addition to her iron injections, she was advised to drink stout each night. After
her death, the diagnosis was found to be false, but too late – she had enjoyed her
stout for years by then!

It was different at my friend Doreen’s home. She lived down Stoney Rock
at the other side of Burtons. When spending evenings with Doreen, our first
chore was to take a huge jug and walk to the local ‘off-licence’ shop for some ale,
then to the nearest fish and chip shop for a tail. Apparently no other part of the
fish would be acceptable to her father. We had to come straight back, no

loitering, for the fish and the ale had to be on the table before her father came
home.

At Burtons my work went merrily along with a little more responsibility
given each year. I left when I obtained the position of Cashier and Wages clerk in
another clothing firm, which dealt mainly with Harris Tweed, a greatly admired
material for good suits. When I was about eighteen I moved to Town Tailors Ltd
( or Weaver to Wearer) as a Wages and Costing clerk, and I made some very good
friends there, one of whom was Peggy Gibson with whom I went bicycle riding
on weekends. Peggy’s mother lived with a lady friend and they were good, kind
ladies who treated me well. It took me years before I realised they were lesbians
- I didn’t even know that word back then!

At Town Tailors the actual cutting was done by bandknife, a large
electrically driven machine, and the cutter performed the more skilled job of
drafting out the pattern or the cut of the suit. One of the cutters used to sing a
little ditty to me : ‘Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill’ but I pretended not to hear him
as I was too shy and insecure. He was about 23 or 24 , which seemed very 0old to
me when I was only 17 or 18.

Our main office manager and accountant was Mike Troughton and we
spent a lot of time working together devising new systems for the costings of the
garments. We got on famously and he started to take me home in his ‘posh’ car.
He was in a very different class of society to mine. We had always been working
class and he was upper class – a big division there. The close friendship between
Mike and I went on for about two years before he asked me to marry him. I was
nearly twenty by then and still going around with Dudley who now assumed he
and I would marry. Being a very level headed and reasonable girl, I decided not
to marry Mike, but we remained good friends and kept in touch for many years
after our separate marriages.

Entertainment


On Saturday afternoons we were given enough money for the matinee
performance at the local cinema, which cost about one penny or twopence. We
would dash off after the midday meal to queue up in the lane at the side of the
cinema. The seats on the front row were terrible as they gave you a bad case of
neck ache from looking up so far – hence the queuing to get the better seats,
further back. The films were in ‘black and white’ and, in the early days, there was
only a musical accompaniment. There was a news reel first then two serials
which left you wondering what would happen next so you would return the
following week.
A parent working on the railway had one advantage: he was allowed
about three free rail passes a year for the family, and my mother used to take us
on trips to Blackpool. Blackpool -with its famous, huge Blackpool Wheel and tall
Blackpool Tower as landmarks – was a very popular Northern seaside resort
with a large fun park. Another great attraction was Reggie Dixon playing a
massive Wurlitzer organ in the Tower ballroom – we loved to listen.
After starting work and saving up for my own holiday or one week per
year, I was able to spend a week at Blackpool, staying in a boarding house near
the seafront with Doreen and her family. The open booths on the seafront played
the latest music all day long and we were free to stand in and listen. We also
watched a young cricket team in the local park and made friends with them,
joining in their trips and games. We were about sixteen at the time and it was all
very innocent. I don’t know for certain about Doreen but I was absolutely scared
of doing anything against my mother’s approval and I think Doreen’s mother was
similar to mine.
Divorce was practically unheard of in our circle and I only heard of
homosexuality when I read about it after I was married. There were never any
swear words used in our home or those of friends and family when we were
there. At Burton’s, however, and at other factories where I worked, there was
always a degree of bad language, so mother must have closed her ears a lot!

Romance


Near the age of fourteen, when going to Grammar school and living on the
Sunnydene Estate, where I looked after the tennis court on Saturday afternoons,
one of the tennis players I met there was Dudley Green. If I was playing, he
would make a point of watching and shout out all the time, such as ‘Run’ and ‘hit
it’ at what he thought were encouraging times. The shouts put me off altogether,
made me ‘all thumbs’ and I played worse than normal. In fact, if he was around, I
got to the stage where I would avoid playing.
When I was a little older, and working, Doreen and I tried to get away
from work completely at the weekends by taking a tram or a bus ride into the
countryside and going for walks. Our favourite walks were on Ilkley Moor with
the ‘Cow and Calf’ rocks, small town and café; and in Otley with its famous
Chevin and more open country. We liked meeting young men there and taking a
stroll with them. Very exciting. It was different then. It took about six months to
get to know someone before you could hold hands and another three months
before you could even sit close together! It was odd the way we often met up
with Dudley and one of his mates in the middle of climbing down from Otley
Chevin or on a riverbank. We were quite willing, of course, to let them take us on
a short river trip – they could do the rowing.
There was no whirlwind courtship. One day, whilst still at school, I was
the proud owner of a new bicycle. Dudley stopped me at his garden gate at the
top of Sutton Approach, and appreciated the new machine and its good points.
Then, ’what about going for a ride?’ I had to get permission from my mother first
but it was alright as long as I returned at a set time. Starting work at Burtons, I
used my bicycle for transport and used to cycle to work with Dudley each
working day. I had three of four miles each way and he had double that.
One thing puzzled me: on passing the Green’s home, sometimes Dudley
would call out a greeting and be very friendly but at other times I was completely
ignored. Months later I was introduced to his younger brother, Alan, so the
mystery was solved, for they looked very much alike, both great sportsmen and
often mistaken for each other.
I have often said that Dudley was a sport-aholic and he didn’t disagree.
I’ve worked, played and travelled through most English sports with him. Besides
tennis, there was river fishing with rod and fly, always in beautiful spots by the
riverbanks. He would sit contentedly for hours while I would just read a book.
We never cooked and ate the fish but his mother might have. I didn’t fancy them.
On Saturday nights, we were thrilled and frightened at the Speedway races and
came home looking like tramps, full of soot and dirt thrown up by the speed cars
on the corners of the track. Football was another delight, rushing like mad on a
Saturday afternoon to get there by tram before kick-off at Elland Road soccer
ground, then dashing out just before the last whistle to get the tram back to
Leeds without a long wait. There were large crowds and we did a lot of waiting
as tickets became more expensive, but hooliganism was unheard of and I felt
perfectly safe. Dudley did his share of yelling for his team and I got used to it, but
never joined in. In our younger days, Leeds United was a very good team and
Dudley followed its progress all his life.

Dudley during a break from work, 1930



Dudley was taught to play lawn bowls at the rink behind the tennis courts when

he was about thirteen years old and it became a life long pleasure. Only males
were allowed on the rink so I was able to get on with my tennis and homework.

Dudley and his brother Alan both loved to play in the local cricket matches and, if
there were any good matches at the famous Headingly cricket ground, we would

be there as many days as possible.



Dudley as a baby

Connie, sister Annie and Dudley at Seacroft



Dudley at Knaresborough, 19 years old, 1931

I suppose I was given fair warning about Dudley’s keen interest in sport, as our
honeymoon was spent at the seaside resort of Scarborough ( east coast of
Yorkshire ) and every morning Dudley would fish from the end of the pier whilst
I watched in fear lest he fall into the sea when casting his line backwards. Also on
our honeymoon, every afternoon and early evening was spent at a cricket test
match held at Scarborough that week!

We both played badminton and tennis at the Hull club and we played
many happy games of golf with my father and brother-in-law, mostly on Sunday
mornings at the Temple-Newsam golf course. I was very angry with Dudley later
on when he sold my golf clubs without consulting me – granted we had young
children then and I was unable to play very often, but I was still annoyed. I didn’t
yell or shout then when angry, but showed my displeasure by not speaking to
him for a week. And what do you know? He didn’t even notice he was getting the
silent treatment!





Dudley at Hawkill Gardens 1939


Later, when David and Wendy didn’t want to holiday with us, we spent our
holidays at golf courses and bowling rinks which were always in very pleasant
areas where I enjoyed walking. Garforth, Selby, was a golf course I remember
well plus Howley Hall where we had some good meals, especially with Yorkshire
pudding as a separate course and homemade apple pie with custard.

In South Australia, the nearest golf course was in the Adelaide Hills at
Highercombe, a beautiful area, and some weekends we were at Victor Harbour
on the South Australian south coast. This golf course had magnificent views of
the coast, but a horrific first hole with the tee above a steep cliff and the green
out of sight below.

Here, in Queensland, our local golf club is Redland Bay, now an 18 hole
course, only a 9 hole course when we first lived here. Our balcony overlooks the
greens and the golf course is two minutes walk away from our garden gate.



Connie on her balcony overlooking the golf course and the sea





We also visited Howeston golf course, Birkdale, when we used to holiday in
Redlands and when Edna, Alf and Winnie came to see us from England, we took
them to the golf course at Buderim on the Sunshine Coast where the kangaroos
are at home.

Marriage





Our wedding on 30th May 1936

Standing on back row ( from left ) Dudley’s sister Marjorie, my father Charles
Kirk, my sister Edna, Dudley’s brother Alan, Dudley, me ( Connie ), Dudley’s
cousin, Dudley’s father Fred Green, my sister Winnie
Seated on front row: Dudley’s mother, Louisa Green, Dudley’s sister Dorothy, my
sister Annie and my mother, Eliza Kirk

( Dudley’s father, Fred Green, was a storekeeper and he was handicapped, with a
noticeably hunched back and restricted activity. He was a very kind, gentle man,
born on 11th May, 1880. We never knew Fred’s ancestry as he was found
dumped on the steps of a Leeds orphanage as a very young baby and the
orphanage gave him his name. Sadly, Fred died, nearly 57 years of age, on 2nd
May 1937, a year after our marriage. )

Our engagement was on my 20th birthday and I chose a diamond ring set in gold.
The diamonds are very small but we decided to save our money towards the
deposit on a house. We’d been together for four years so the engagement was
expected and very low key. I was not a party girl in any case and would rather
meet a few people than have a party.
Next, Dudley and I decided to have a very quiet wedding at our local
church with just a few friends and our families. As far as I was concerned, it got
out of hand anyway and I ended up with five bridesmaids – my three sisters and
Dudley’s two sisters as we didn’t want anyone to feel left out – and there were
about a hundred guests at the wedding.

The only upset was before the wedding when the girls were having
adjustments made during their final bridesmaid dress fittings and it was
discovered my sister Annie’s dress no longer fit her because she was pregnant!
Shock horror! There were cries of ‘How could you?’ and ‘Never darken my door
again!’ and ‘You’ve spoilt everything’ and the loudest speech to Annie was ‘You
must now get married.’ I suggested a double wedding, but that was thought
ludicrous. So Annie’s dress was let out a little and, soon after our wedding, she
and her boyfriend Harold were married at the Leeds Registry Office.

So our wedding was on May 30th 1936 at Crossgates Wesleyan Methodist
chapel and the reception was in the chapel schoolroom. The only thing I
remember about the whole caboodle is that there wasn’t enough room to seat
everyone at once so there were two sittings and Dudley and I had to eat twice!
After the ceremony, we went home to our new house at Hawkill Gardens,
Crossgates, and the next day we left for our honeymoon in Scarborough.



1939 Connie & Dudley at Butlins Holiday Camp, Skegness

Our house was a well-built brick home, which stood the test of time. Dudley
made a feature of panelling in our hallway with a fine type of cement and then
painted it in gradations of colour from top to bottom and it was very effective. On
the lounge wall, he designed and painted a picture (with a frame ) in the same
material, similar to the famous painting ‘Poplars in the Thames Valley’. Some
parts were higher than others, making a very pleasing 3-D effect.

We went on to sell and then buy all our homes. Dudley usually did some
special decorative features in each one, which helped enormously when selling
the properties. Dudley has always been artistic, with a flair for drawing and
painting, perhaps inherited from his father. Dudley sold his first painting when
he was eight years old! As it was necessary for him to become a wage earner, his
mother helped him become an apprentice to a Builder and Decorator and he
became a house painter.







Dudley after winning the bowls competition at Butlins 1939

Dudley’s sister, Dorothy, looked after her mother, Louisa, until the day her
mother died.





Dudley’s sister, Marjorie, emigrated to Sydney, Australia

Dudley’s mother, Louisa Green, did not think any of her children’s spouses were
good enough for them and often interfered and bossed people about on the
Estate where we lived. I had committed the major sin of marrying her eldest son
and taken him away. He was her mainstay and prop, especially since Fred died
shortly after we were married. Dudley’s brother, Alan, the second oldest son,
used to call Louisa ‘The Queen’ because he said ‘she sat around giving orders to
everyone and didn’t do anything herself’! Her strategy worked – Dudley did her
painting, Alan did her gardening, Bernard the odd jobs, and Dorothy and
Marjorie did her cooking and cleaning.

She made a big fuss of Dudley when we went over to visit her, saying
‘here’s a lovely apple pie I’ve made just for you, Dudley,’ when it was most likely
Dorothy who had baked it.

Our married life proceeded amicably, with both of us working, but it was
a bit much to have to come home and start cooking a meal, plus a lot of weekends
were taken up with grocery shopping and mundane affairs. Dudley helped by
making the fire and doing the gardening etc. but his mother was the ‘fly in the
ointment’ for me, as she often popped round for a meal, uninvited, bringing one
or two of the young ones as well. Sometimes she even brought friends to Sunday
dinner without notice. What was even more annoying was that she’d start in the
garden, taking her friends or relatives on a guided tour (without even saying
hello to me first) saying things like ’Dudley’s done this’ and Dudley’s done that’
then she would bring them into our home and show them around, repeating the
same theme. In our first year, Dudley did a lot of decorating, but it was my home,
too, and to hear her speak, it was as if I did absolutely nothing. On Sunday
afternoons, she used to look into the pantry to see what was left of our Sunday
joint of meat, picking it up and saying ’You’ve finished with this, haven’t you?’
and wrapping it up and taking it home before I could reply. The same thing
happened to the newspapers, often before I had read them. I became smarter
with these and hid them.

I knew if I grumbled about his mother’s behaviour, Dudley would tell me I
was thinking wrong thoughts so, to keep the peace, I kept my negative thoughts
to myself. However, this matter finally came to a head when Dudley, without
consulting me, invited his mother to come and stay with us for a fortnight for a
break. David was four years old and Wendy about 12 months old and, with two
young children to look after, I was not in full time employment at this time. I did,
however, see to the bookings for the Decorating business and keep the ledgers
etc. Gradually, Louisa moved her things up to our place – her favourite cushions,
chair, but when she altered her Pension Card address to ours, and the weeks
became months, I said it was time she went home and Dudley ought to tell her.

When my mother made a visit, she was absolutely outraged. ‘Have you
lost your head?’ she said to me. ‘You cook and serve all her meals, do all her
washing and cleaning and she never lends a hand. She doesn’t even pick up a
duster! She doesn’t do any baby sitting and with two youngsters and all!’

This was true, of course, and for a fortnight it was probably bearable, but
after months of this, it was not. And one week-day when I was not well and
actually had a miscarriage, Louisa brought home two of her cousins for me to
feed! That was the last straw. I told Dudley, either she goes or I go, so when
Dudley realised how serious it was, she went at the end of the week.

The following extract is directly quoted from a memo book sent from England to
Dudley (then in Australia) by his mother Louisa in 1974:

‘I went with my brother Allen to Talbot St United Methodist chapel where he
began as a local preacher and remained one all his life. My eldest brother,
Ernest, went to another Wesleyan chapel at the top of Hick Lane. I remember his
teaching me the hymns they sang and can still sing one I like very much:


‘Just across the silent river,
There’s a house not made with hands,
And the peace, which God hath spoken,
Softly rests o’er all its lands.’

Mr Cole, of the coal merchants and undertakers firm on Burley road, used to
come each week to collect our coal delivery money. He was a Christian Scientist
and invited us to go to a service, which I shall never forget – it was what I had
been searching for my whole life. At my mother’s funeral, Mr Cole was the
undertaker and, as we sat looking in her coffin, he said to me: ’It is not death, but
transition.’ I learned, years later, that Mr and Mrs Cole had offered me a home
with them, but my brothers, Ernest and Allen, didn’t mention it to me, which I
think was wrong of them. But Auntie Kate thought there was something immoral
involved in the invitation. So, instead of going to the Christian Science meetings, I
went back to the Daniels Band meetings again, where your dad, Fred Green,
watched me for a long time. When he saw I had stopped going home from
meetings with a certain young man, he came and spoke to me, telling me how
lonely he was, with no relatives at all. He asked me to marry him and, when I
said no, he became so ill that eventually I was so sorry for him that I gave in and
married him, to make him a home. The deacon at the chapel said to me; ’You are
a good Christian girl to marry him, but I’m afraid you’re letting yourself in for a
life of worry and anxiety.’ Did I? A letter from you a few weeks ago says no, this
was not the case. August 1974 – Allen’s daughter Marjorie has been to stay with
me this afternoon with her little girl, Deborah Jayne. We had such a pleasant time
and a nice chat and I appreciate her coming very much. I wish Wendy was in
Leeds, for I think she would visit me this way as well.’


Louisa with her second husband, Arthur Cross

I continued working full time after we were married, and Dudley started
attending Night School in Leeds to further his skills in decorating, such as wood
and marble graining, signwriting, writing on glass, poster work and many other
areas of expertise.
Town Tailors decided to open a new factory at Castleford, a few miles
outside of Leeds. I had a lot to do with the organisation of the offices for the new
factory and was increasingly confident in my own abilities and I was able to
speak out and get things done my own way. My father’s motto ‘waste not, want
not’ was also mine and was appreciated as I put it into practice at work.

When the Castleford factory opened, Dorothy was in charge of the Wages
office and I was in charge of Costings and factory clerks. My most important
position there was as Employment Officer. I was also instrumental in putting a
bench or line of machines in place, on which each person did only part of a
garment and then passed it along the line. These kinds of benches or lines,
especially in motor vehicle plants, are common now, but in 1936 they were
something new!

Dudley was now out of his apprenticeship and earning a little more money. Our
first home cost 630 pounds, which was a lot of money back then. We saved up to
buy anything special such as furniture or holidays. Our only pressures were at
work. We both smoked a little, Craven A and Players brands. This was in the days
when it was quite fashionable to smoke and we didn’t realise how deadly it was.
As soon as we knew it was deadly we cut down and eventually gave it up
altogether.

Dudley followed the religious teachings of Mary Baker Eddy, the founder
of Christian Science, as did his mother, Louisa. He used the principle of ‘mind
over matter’ and he was fit and healthy for most of his life.

As for me, when living in England I made a habit of visiting various
churches or chapels and just sitting there quietly by myself for a few minutes. In
Falmouth, for instance, as a safety measure, I used to choose a different route
each Friday lunchtime when going to the bank for the week’s salaries and this
made it easy to slip into a different church or chapel.

1939 – 1945 World War 2


These were momentous days and changed all our lives, but I haven’t written
much about the war. That is deliberate. I think plenty has been written about it
and shown in films and documentaries. I had enough of the war in wartime and
have since avoided the subject as much as possible. There was no voluntary
enlisting. All men of certain ages were conscripted and full time workers, such as
myself and my sisters, had to do rostered fire watching, looking out for the
charming incendiary bombs.
1939 before war started was not a good year either, with the threat of
war constantly in mind. Dudley did voluntary Fire duties before being called up
and I passed a course of tuition for the St John’s Ambulance First Aid.
We all managed a lot of letter writing and looked forward to replies
though these were often censored if they came from military zones.

Dudley was stationed in various places in England before going to
Germany. Yorkshire at first, then Whaplode Drove near Spalding, Lincolnshire,
then to Cornwall. He liked Cornwall, which was why we had holidays there
afterwards. At Whaplode Drove, Dudley became very friendly with the Login
family. They used to invite me down to stay with them whenever Dudley had
some leave in their district. We were very strictly rationed in wartime, so it was
like being in a very different world when we were with the Logins.





1699367 Bombadier Dudley R Green of the Royal Artillery, 19 years old

Mr and Mrs Harold Login had a small farm. I can remember their lovely
small new potatoes, a cow giving fresh milk and homemade cheese and other
goodies. Their brother Frank lived next door and provided tomatoes and
strawberries. Their other brother ran the local petrol station so we could have a
little extra now and then and another relative kept pigs, so bacon, pork and hams
were in plentiful supply. Miss Elsie, the sister, kept the village shop, which helped
in lots of ways.
The only drawback on the farm was that the lavatory was outside at the
front. It was a ramshackle shed, the door was not easy to shut and there was no
light. Inside there was a board with three holes and pots underneath which were

emptied weekly by the council. Our modern toilets are such a luxury after having

to use the older type for a while!



Connie with the Login family, Whaplode Drove, Spalding


My sister Winnie’s husband was also in the army, so Winnie came to live with me
for the duration of the war. Initially we thought, like everyone else, that it would
be over fairly quickly. Well, the war went on for four years and our husbands
were not discharged until about a year after that. Dudley was stationed with the
Army of Occupation in Austria and came home in 1946.

When Dudley finally arrived home from Germany, about a year after the
war was officially ended, he had to start again with his business career and was
busy on private jobs some neighbours and acquaintances had saved for him. For
some time after his return to civilian life, Dudley had a sleep disorder, which
lasted for a year. Every two hours during the night, he used to sit up suddenly
and shout: ‘Turn out the guards!’

Dudley’s regiment, World War 2
( Dudley on the right with pamphlet in hand )

training centre at Eldagsen, Germany, 1945





entrance to training centre, Eldagsen, Germany
( Dudley’s signwriting )

Dudley and Ted at Eldagsen, Hanover, Germany, in October, 1945



Naturists



Becoming naturists or nudists was something we both decided upon after
obtaining lots of information from our friend Ida who was already a member of a
naturist – or nudist – club. The club near Hull became our home club and the
grounds were called Woody Carr, set in 26 acres with low trees and a river,
surrounded by farmland so very private. There were little chalets or huts there,
established in the clearings, away from the tennis court, playing ovals and
Community hall. We made lots of good friends and had some very happy times
there. When a hut became available from a member who had moved south, we
bought it and, although it was small, we managed holidays there for 20 years.
All our water had to be pumped from a deep well and carried to our hut. It
was very good for drinking as it had lots of iron in it and it was very cold. Our
families were told of our latest venture and were scandalised. At the time I was
known in the family for being ‘outspoken’ and ‘doing my own thing’! Some were
more tolerant than others. I remember Edna’s husband Alf saying: ‘We sailors
swim in the nude when we have the chance.’
At one stage, our club was asked by the editor of a nudist magazine called
‘Health and Strength’, if they could take some photos of us at the camp. We
explained that we were not model figures and the reply was that was why we
were asked as they wanted to show that people with ordinary families were
members, not just people with super bodies to display. So we agreed and the
photos were published. I didn’t think much more about it until one day I found
some of the men at work were giving me strange looks and smirking. I asked one
of my friends what was going on and they said a copy of the magazine had been
circulating around the offices. I was a seven-day wonder, with comments
reported to me, such as - ‘you wouldn’t think it of her because she’s so strait
laced!’ and ‘it’s hard to believe because she’s such a prude!’


George & Ethel Washbrook, our good friends at Woody Carr

Connie ( near centre) & Dudley (far right) at special dinner with friends & family

in U.K.



Edna, son Alec, and Connie at our Hawkill Gardens house

Honours for Dudley



In 1949 Dudley passed the First Class Intermediate Examination in Painters and
Decorators Work in the City and Guilds of London Examination and was awarded
second prize offered by the Painter-Stainers Company.
In 1950 Dudley passed the First Class Final Examination in Painters and
Decorators Work in the City and Guilds London Institute. He was awarded first
prize of silver medal, five pounds five shillings in prize money ( in books or in
tools ) offered by the Painter-Stainers Company and the Institute’s silver medal.
Dudley travelled to London in 1951 to receive these honours and signed
the Painter-Stainers’ large tome in the Vintners’ Hall and came home with a copy
and book telling him how to behave now that he was a Freeman of the City of
London! He was made a Freeman of the ancient Painter-Stainers Company and
this automatically made him a Freeman of the City of London. Any sons we had
after this honour, was also entitled to become a Freeman, but we already had a
son and daughter – that was enough for me!


Dudley, 19th August, 1940

Births and Miscarriages


After a miscarriage at nearly 5 months, the doctor advised me to wait about two
years and our son, David Robert Green, was born on 13th March 1947 in the
Leeds General Infirmary.
There was deep snow around when I walked down our short drive to the
ambulance. It had been snowing for about two weeks but the main roads had
been cleared for traffic. By the time I left hospital, there was no sign of snow and
there were lovely sunny days. The spring and summer of 1947 are remembered
by a lot of people as a time of glorious weather. It was marvellous for me with a
young baby, very easy for washing and drying nappies and the baby could be
taken for walks every day and didn’t need to wear a lot of layers of clothing.
Another miscarriage at four and a half months, and then on March 6th
1950, our daughter Wendy Vanessa was born. As this was a second birth, a home
birth with midwife in attendance was recommended. I was about 50 hours in
labour with David and then had to be induced with at least two injections at
various intervals to speed things along. This time nothing much seemed to go
right, either, and I was in agony again and the doctor was called in. When I ‘came
round’, the doctor was still wearing his rubber apron.

‘What are you doing here?’ I asked.
‘What are you doing awake so soon after all the anaesthetics I’ve given
you?’ he replied. ‘By the way, you have a lovely little girl.’
So I asked if she was okay because, after being told that, because of
difficult labour, baby was most likely dying, (and other grisly details) I was very
scared and needed to know straight away. Yes, she was perfectly healthy!
All the pundits tell you that birth pains are horrible, but not to worry,
after the birth they are easily forgotten. As far as I’m concerned, that’s a load of
codswallop. I can still remember – not that I want to remember, but if a birth
comes up on TV you’ll find I’ve left the room, even now, 40 years later.
What I do say is that both my children have been – and are still – a joy.
Although brought up the same, they are both completely different characters,
both very supportive on my behalf.


Wendy & David

Wendy and David

Let’s Buy a Bigger House


We looked around a lot, but finally bought the house at the top end of Austhorpe
Lane in 1950 after Wendy’s birth. It was a detached property with a decent sized
garage for Dudley’s decorating ladders and paints as well as our van. There was
an open, beautiful view of the countryside.

Although I liked the house very much, it was a bit of a show house
because Dudley now had his own decorating business, he made each room a
showcase for some aspect of his expertise. He did the entrance hall in beautiful
panels, dining room in special oak effect, lounge with wood panels, window seat
and a special painting etc. Customers were often taken through the house to view
the special features. Stocks of wallpaper multiplied and had to be stored in our
wardrobes to keep dry.

David started at Manston Church School at 5 years old. I took them to
school on my bike, Wendy in the carrier and David on the seat. This was a mile
each way and kept me quite fit.
We didn’t really appreciate that David was such an easy baby to look after
until we had Wendy. David got all his teeth with no bother. Wendy got bronchitis
with every one. David was happy with his meals and slept through the night.
Wendy was in our bed nearly every night and we couldn’t keep her happy with
cuddles, drinks, meals or anything. We only had a babysitter for Wendy twice,
once my mother, once Dudley’s mother – and neither of them would come to
look after her again!

Dudley had a strange experience when Wendy was a toddler. One night he
heard her footsteps coming from her bedroom towards our bedroom, which was
her usual thing when coming to our bed at night. But instead of coming into our
room, Dudley heard her footsteps running past our door and into the small
bedroom next to ours. Fearing she might fall down the stairs in the dark, he got
up and went to get her. But she wasn’t in the small bedroom. He found her still
asleep in her own bed down the hallway. He was very sure of what he’d heard
and, after this, he didn’t really like the house as much any more.