Part 2
At home in Selly Oak I played street games with other boys, the most popular of these being tip-cat and last-across. Tip-cat was played with a stick, with which one hit one of the pared-down ends of a small piece of wood, thus making it rise in the air, then trying to hit it as far as possible along the street. Last-across was a dangerous game, the idea being to see who could be the last to cross the road in front of an oncoming horse!
In those days, little things pleased us and provided the excitement of life. If someone gave us a penny, we thought we had a fortune! I sometimes think the children of today may have lost the sense of wonder with all the amazing inventions and discoveries they enjoy and which to some of them are commonplace. I got a great thrill out of flying a ha’penny kite: a few years later I had the unspeakable wonder of hearing radio for the first time, the result of fiddling a ‘cat’s whisker’ on a wireless crystal set until the sound came through. And I remember the first thing I heard; it was Paderewski playing his minuet in D.
As a boy, and indeed, all through life, strange or unusual things have interested me. For instance, I have always wondered why workmen tied their trousers below the knee with a leather strap or just a piece of string. Whenever I asked the question, I could never get a satisfactory answer. I loved unusual odours, such as the smell of a coal-cart, and I would hang around while a coalman delivered his sacks of coal, just to enjoy the smell.
Unlike most boys, I never indulged in fighting. Some may think of me as a coward, but I have never been able to understand why men and boys resort to fisticuffs to settle what after all is a moral argument. The only thing that fisticuffs proves is that the winner is physically stronger or more clever with his fists than the loser; it certainly doesn’t prove either person to be right or wrong.
Sunday school outings have always been a great adventure for children, and in those early days of privation, when the smallest benefit was a Godsend, we appreciated and enjoyed everything we got. We were up and dressed at an unearthly hour, long before the prescribed time, with our name-tickets, tea mugs and whatever else we had been instructed to bring. We were taken by horse-drawn ‘brakes’ to some field or park, and were usually accompanied by what we children called the ‘bummer toots’ (boys brigade bugle bands). The one connected with our church had a small cannon, which was pulled by hand and operated by older boys.
On one occasion an accident provided the whole district with the greatest talking point for many a long day; a cannon failed to explode its small shell, so a boy was detailed to push his ramrod into the cannon mouth, whereupon the shell exploded and blew off one of the boy’s fingers!
On Saturday mornings we older children were each allocated by mother regular tasks. Mine was to clean the knives on an emery board, or on the stone doorstep, using a bath brick, a solid substance that removed all stains – and occasionally the skin from my fingers – and, with the application of much energy, made the knives gleam brightly.
