Back to Work, and the Changing World

Work continued to come in steadily. The type of work, however, was altering with the times, and with the increasing use of the tractor and other mechanical implements on the farms, wheel‑wrighting got less and less. Just the odd repair job, otherwise it was on its way out. We were lucky that other work was coming in to replace this.

There was, and still is, a large Nunnery and private school in an adjoining village. The Sister‑in‑Charge sent for Charley one day and told him they were in a muddle at the school, and could he help out. Apparently they were having their Annual Speech Day the following day, and some of the gymnastic gear on which the girls were due to give a demonstration had broken. We worked all that day and into the evening doing the repairs. After that we got all their carpentering and decorating maintenance. This added up to some two or three months' work a year which was most acceptable. Also a large fruit farm was being developed in the next village and again, we were lucky enough to get all their work ‑ another good regular standby, so we kept busy enough.

As well as the changes in our type of work, the whole nature of what we had known as typical village life was also changing fast. No longer were the Squire and the larger farmers the main employers of labour as they had been in the past. Seasonal fishing from Lowestoft still went on, although fewer men from the villages took advantage of this. Men were now going further afield for their employment, and the girls as well, for whom a career in service and the small wage this commanded was giving way to shop and office work in the neighbouring towns.

This in turn widened the scope of picking a 'mate', and many young ones got married and moved away to other districts. This was a complete change from the old system, where intermarrying between the village youngsters tended to make the village like a large family. Even the shops in the villages felt the pinch, as with better public transport, motor bikes and more cars people began to shop in the towns where the choice was wider. The same thing applied to entertainment as radio was now commonplace, and the cinemas, now with sound and even colour were having a real boom. Congregations in church and chapel dwindled, with weekends becoming more a time for pleasure than for worship.

Of course, this was only the thin edge of the wedge. There were no dramatic changes but it was, as we knew later, the beginning of the end for the old way of life. Whether there was more happiness was uncertain, but I very much doubt if there was. At times, it seemed to me that the search for pleasure was so exhausting that at the end of the road, there was very little left to enjoy. The old quiet way, even with all the undoubted hardship and poverty, seemed to create a sort of inbuilt serenity unknown in later years.

Even in our workshop and the smithy's next door, the change was noticeable. No longer, in the winter, did the old 'uns congregate to yarn and smoke, for the simple reason that most of them had either passed on or were too old to get far from their little cottages. Although I suppose the old atmosphere was not altogether conducive to doing a really full day's work, Charley and I missed the yarns and arguments that went on. No longer did we know who could plough the straightest furrow, or drill a field without a lot of 'holidays', otherwise patches where no corn had been sown. As one of the veterans said to me on one of the rare occasions he could 'make it' to the shop "Boy Johnnie" he said, "there earn't no fun in work today. Whus the pleasure in sittin' ahind of one o' them rattlin', stinkin' tractors. If yew carn't keep one o' them in a straight line, yew mus' be a fule. I'll lay if yew put one o' them tractor drivers ahind o' a pair of fresh Suffolks, full o' oats, his furrow 'ud be like a dicky's hind leg." ‑ which just about summed it up.

As far as work went with me, there was only one fly in the ointment. We got more and more painting to do. Charley hated this job and used to laugh and say "carpentering is a trade, but painting is a disease". So with Charley being the boss, I got all the painting and it wasn't long before I began to hate it as well. It nearly broke my heart when the Sister from the Nunnery School decided to have the whole place painted up outside. I started at the beginning of April, and it took me four months to complete. It was a large place, three storeys high, and all the woodwork was painted black. How I wished they would have just one window painted white, to make a change.

Eventually I got through it all, packed the gear in the old box, heaved a huge sigh of relief and came back to the shop looking forward to a change at last. So you can imagine how I felt when I asked Charley what the next job would be, and he told me he had just got the job of painting up all the glasshouses at one of the big private houses in the area. I felt like crying, but off I had to go and it was well into October before I finished. I never wanted to see a paintbrush again!

Nevertheless, Charley and I got on famously together. How he loved his pipe! It rarely left his mouth, either alight or not. He got in a right old muddle when he broke his old false teeth and had to get a new set. Years and years of holding that old pipe had worn a convenient slot in the old teeth where his pipe stem could rest comfortably. Alas, the first time he lit up with his new teeth, down came the top set and out fell the pipe. He was downright miserable, as the only way he could get a smoke was to hold the pipe. As he couldn't work with one hand, desperate remedies were needed. He found a small sawfile and set to work filing down the offending tooth until he had formed a slot identical to his old teeth. Happily, all went well; he could smoke and work and enjoy himself again.

One more unfortunate aspect of the changing world was the increase in unemployment, mentioned earlier. Charley and I kept busy enough, but generally things were far from good. My own life was too full of work and pleasure to be bothered about national troubles. I have often thought how practically every night, summer and winter, I was out somewhere or other, leaving Mother alone at home. Apart from mealtimes and Sundays she saw very little of me. For all that she seemed happy enough, with chapel activities taking a lot of her time.

I could have done so much for her if I had been more thoughtful. Every morning when I came down about half past seven, there was a good fire and breakfast all waiting. I suppose it was a sort of throwback to Victorian times when apart from eating and sleeping, the menfolk did practically nothing in the house, and nothing was expected of them. How easily I could have got up and lit the fire, or stayed at home to keep her company, but I never gave it a thought. How I regret it now, for she was such a good thoughtful mother to me.

She did love the radio, and got endless enjoyment from it. I eventually got a good all mains wireless which was a real boon to her, and as a sort of bonus it kept me at home on some of the long, dark winter evenings. She made me laugh one day when some horse‑racing results were being broadcast. Much to my surprise she said "Boy Jack, if I ever had a bet, do you know which horse I would put my money on?" "I've no idea Mother" I replied, as the thought of Mother ever having a bet astounded me. "Which horse would it be?" "Why" said Agnes with a twinkle in her eye, "I'd bet on old two o'clock ‑ he seems to win every day!"