After leaving the Boys Home, I moved in with my father on the upper floor of a house he owned in south-east London. He was a master plumber who ran a small business handling plumbing problems as well as minor building repairs and renovation work. He gave me my first job, assisting his full-time employee, a plumber named Frank. That was how I began my working life—as a plumber’s mate.

The Daily Routine

Frank was married to Joan, and they lived nearby. The working day began at 7 am, when I would leave home and walk to Frank’s house. Often, he was still in bed, so I would put the kettle on, make tea for him and his wife, light the fire in winter, and wait while he got himself ready for work. By then it was nearly morning teatime, so we would head to the local café for another cup of tea and their speciality: rich minced meat served on white bread as a sandwich. It was simple, popular, and delicious.

Frank’s mode of transport was a BSA motorbike with a sidecar for his tools. I rode on the pillion, and off we went to the day’s first job.

The Work

The jobs the business attracted varied enormously, although most involved repairs or replacements. Updating fireplaces was one common example. In plumbing, the cold English winters created a steady stream of burst pipes because most household water lines were made of lead. When the water froze, it expanded and split the piping, so winter kept us busy. The repair was simple enough: we used a kerosene blow lamp to heat and soften the lead, then tapped it back into shape with a hammer to seal the leak. The work was hardly demanding or time-consuming, and we were usually finished within half an hour—unless the lady of the house offered tea and biscuits, which happened often and was rarely refused.

By the time we finished the first job, it was usually lunchtime, so it was back to the café again. If it was a Wednesday afternoon and Charlton Athletic were playing at home in the First Division, we might head off to the football instead. It was hardly a rigorous introduction to working life. My wages were two shillings and sixpence a day-half a crown-so it is probably fair to say my father got what he paid for.

Memorable Jobs

One job I remember especially was the renovation of a fire-damaged sub-basement. The floor space had to be filled with gravel to create a base for concreting, and my task was to shovel tons of it through the front window into the room below. As we spread the gravel, we discovered that a cat had died in the floor cavity. Because of rigor mortis, its tail kept springing up each time we tried to cover it. Frank’s solution was characteristically practical: he nailed the tail to the subsoil and we poured the concrete over the top. Crude though it was, it solved the problem.

My father also employed a part-time worker named Harry. He was deaf and unable to speak, and his main job was to transport a sixty-foot extension ladder on a wheelbarrow to local worksites where it was needed. These jobs usually involved replacing damaged chimney pots or broken slate roof tiles. With houses in the area often reaching four storeys, the actual climbing and repair work usually fell to me. Carrying a chimney pot up a sixty-foot ladder and moving across a slate roof was no small challenge. Even so, Harry and I managed well enough with basic sign language. He was a gentle soul, and we had a warm mutual respect.

My Father Outside Work

I soon discovered that my father’s social life centred on playing the piano and drinking beer at The Black Bull Inn in Lewisham, a neighbouring suburb in south-east London. He played old pub favourites as well as current popular songs, which he picked up by ear from the radio. He also played the piano accordion and clearly relished the enthusiasm of the patrons, who often showed their appreciation by buying him a beer. He tried to draw me into the singing and drinking, but my sheltered upbringing had left me far too self-conscious for that.

Looking Ahead

This chapter of my life lasted about a year. Then, a chance remark from an acquaintance—whose friend had recently joined the Royal Navy—set me on the path to my next journey.