2
Benjamin Miles Potter starts work at Lanston Monotype
Corporation Ltd at Salfords in 1915
Keen to start
So on the following Monday in Sept 1915 I am laying in bed trying to get some sleep when everyone else all around me seems to be working and making as much noise as possible. Our house is about two yards off the main road from Turners Hill to East Grinstead, and every heavy vehicle passing shakes the house down, or so it seems. Although the blind is drawn my eyes won’t leave that crack of light at its very edges, telling me its daylight, so I cannot sleep. What with the excitement of working in a factory with machines and accurate tools, can you wonder my brain won’t stop working? So I just lay and wait to hear my wife’s footsteps coming up the stairs, to tell me it is four thirty, time to get up and have a bit of tea before starting off on the night shift.
I had oiled and pumped up my cycle before going to bed. I would allow myself one hour, so I got up and started just before it’s five, so as to clock in at ten minutes to six. It was a fairly good country road all the way, and although coasting along at a steady twelve miles an hour, I was always looking at every house on both sides of the road to see if one became vacant. The journey home was harder than going as it’s far more hilly, also one is a good deal more tired and ten miles seemed to drag. The night shift hours were from six at night until eight in the morning, making a fourteen hour shift with just two half hour breaks. There was also a day shift of ten hours, making the twenty four round the clock, but I could never understand why it was so unevenly divided, one would have thought the night shift would have been the shorter of the two as much more tiring working all the time in artificial lighting. They allowed ten minutes for clocking out and in. There were three gangways for doing this and you could clock or stamp your card in two seconds. My card was number 418 and my first wages after deductions came to about twenty six shillings.
How to use the machine and earn a bonus
I was working on the milling machines and supposed to be on a bonus job but although I worked as fast as I could, I did not get one penny bonus in my packet each week. Yet others doing the same kind of work as me could earn lots of bonus. Then when I spoke to old hands about this they said you never will earn any unless you do as others do and that is tip the charge hand. He will then twiddle that little knob you see there on the side of your machine then it’s easy to earn bonus money. But touch that knob yourself you will be sacked with one hour notice; what a swindle, what a racket. My work was to put pieces of machine guns in a jig that was fixed to a moving table. The jig had to be scrupulously clean with a camel hair sash tool (similar to a painter’s fine brush). You then turned on mystic (a proprietary cleaning and cooling fluid) from a can fitted with a tap hanging overhead to flow on, to keep the cutter and work cool while cutting the metal away. You pull a long wooden lever to start up the machine from a loose to a fixed pulley wheel on overhead shafting driven by a very large dynamo. For each two rows of shafting you turn a wheel to move the table along to get the work near the cutter, then the machine takes over while doing the actual cutting so very slowly you can scarcely see it is moving at all. Then when through the work the table stops, you pull the long lever to stop the machine, wind the table back, take the work out, clean the jig thoroughly, put in another piece and off you go again as before. But to leave one tiny piece of scrap metal in the jig, lay your piece of work on it and that piece of work will come out scrap. Do that a few times in one night and you would surely get the sack.
I saw each night the charge hand accepting gifts of cigarettes, money, small bottles of spirits, even cigars, all done to get him to twiddle the knobs, then they could earn bonus. If you have a sewing machine you would be sure to know that by twiddling the knob on the side the stitches can be lengthened and the work passes under the foot faster, well these machines work on the same principle. Normally we will say it takes twelve minutes for the table to pass with the work clamped on it to pass under the cutter and that is the time allowed for doing this job so surely you cannot earn any bonus. But let him twiddle the knob and he can make it pass under in four minutes so you can do three pieces now as quickly as you were doing one and you would be earning nearly double pay on that box of work. He will turn all the knobs back to normal before leaving off in the morning to make it the same for the day shift charge hands to get their pull out of the workers. So you can see if a charge hand does not get a tip, or even does not like you he can send you to Halifax or Coventry and you will never earn any bonus.
No matter how conscientious a worker you may be this kind of vile deceiving rankles my feathers, I swore I wasn’t going to give him any tips. He was much better paid than we were although they were only mere boys. They had been working these machines since they left school while doing Monotype work before the war (WW1) and their work was to set up the machines for each different operation. There is nothing much in setting up and working these machines, but why should this nonsense be allowed in otherwise a well organised factory. Every machine should have been set up at the same speed working on the same articles so that if you kept really busy you could do time and a half, then the slackers would loose the bonus. It would have made the work more interesting and fair to all.
Unsavoury practices, but some you had to copy
After only a few months on these machines more women and girls were coming in on night shift as the pay was better than the day shift being longer hours so I was transferred to the fitting benches. So now I will be feeling important as I will now be classed as an expert fitter.
Before we leave the machines I mentioned we had to use a sash tool to clean our machines and jigs to brush every particle of scrap metal away before fitting in a new piece. Whoa betide you should you lay your sash tool down and turn your back a minute for it will be whisked away in the twinkling of an eye. I lost two or three before I got the hang of it. I found these brush stealers worked in pairs. One would carry something very interesting in his pocket, walk round the machines until he comes to a man, or woman, or girl who has laid their sash tool down on the table of their machine. Then he would come and show you whatever he has got, gets your back to the machine while the other chap creeps up from the opposite way, hey presto you’ve had it. That means you have to pay sixpence to get a new one from the stores. For everything you want you must hand in an old or worn out one before you can get a free issue otherwise you must pay for it. I soon let them see that two can play that sort of game as you must have one you cannot work without it. I soon found that I could do it single handed and soon made up my losses. Although girls were fair game, I can honestly say that I never pinched a sash from them, I always went for a man.
A slap on the wrist
I used to carry my meals in a wicker basket with a lid, this I used to strap on my back carrier of my cycle. On reaching the cycle shed one morning I put it on my carrier and in my hurry to get away I forgot to put the strap round it, so of course when I arrived home it was missing. I could see by the strap, I had never strapped it on that morning. I felt sure that someone would pick it up and take it in the canteen I hoped, but they took it to the Foreman’s office.
On arrival at work that night as no one in the canteen knew anything about it I called at the Foreman’s office to see if anyone had reported finding it. They said a day worker had picked it up just outside the entrance gates to these works, but I could not have it until I had seen the works Foreman, as he wished to have a word with me at the work bench. A few minutes later he came up to me and said come to my office. I had seen many others do that and they never came back. My heart went pitter pat for I thought this is my marching orders. It appeared he had opened the basket and found my tools wrapped up in a cloth, hammer, sash tools two, and files two. He said that wasn’t I aware that all tools were the property of the Lanston Monotype and should never be taken outside our doors? I told him I had bought the ball peen hammer with my own money from a shop in Horley and could prove it with the bill if necessary. Also I had paid sixpence each for the sash tools at the stores as someone had stolen two of mine. That only left the two files and I had signed for them at the stores so if they had got lost I would had to pay for new ones anyway so there was nothing for him to worry about. I said they are much safer in my basket than in the drawer that I have to share with two other men, but he said it is the principle that matters, orders, be orders and there is a notice on the stores saying that no tools to be taken out of these works, so don’t let it happen again or you will get an hours notice to leave our works.
That was the nearest I ever got to receiving the sack here. I never heard one good word for this Foreman, not one liked him. As he was bald everyone behind his back called him old “Jacho” as that was the name of a hair restorer then. I think a better name would have been “Thatcho”.
I become a fitter and I’m still disgusted
Tonight I start on the benches as a fitter, this is a big leg up from being a milling machine hand, but I had not been working there long before I get another shock, for my horror and disgust I found the men were tipping the foreman to pick up all the best paying and bonus jobs. There were bottles of drink, the money, the cigarettes and cigars and anything else all being brought out from under the benches as soon as the foreman came round. I almost felt I could shoot them in cold blood. I felt so miserable about this and it can so happen that the worst workman get the best pay, nothing for merit and excellent work unless you do the low down. I only know two words that fit that kind of corruption, but I am afraid I must leave you to guess them as I know you will get them right.
Living nearer to Salfords and another family member
After going to and fro to Turners Hill each day for a few months I spotted an empty house at Weather Hill (now all one word, on the north western outskirts of Smallfield) and didn’t I tear there the next morning and I was lucky enough to get it. You see there were others coming all the way from Turners Hill besides me, I used to ride home with three of them.
I am now able to bring my Wife and Daughter much nearer to my work; I shall be living only about 3 miles from the factory. This was a great relief to both me and my Wife as my second baby was on the way. So at the end of the two years interval as planned my baby was born. Although my Mother had arrived well before hand to act as Midwife as she had done to scores of other people I felt much more at ease than I did with the first born, you see my Mother arrived late the first time, it was not her fault.
We have already decided this will be our last whether boy or girl, although it’s a boy we want. At the appointed time it arrives it is a boy. After seeing and listening to the perishing agony my Wife endured to bring that life into this world, convinced me no matter what happens she will not go through such suffering again. This last process completely ruins all the delightfulness of the waiting period and the final preparations that we have made to reproduce ourselves. Whatever is it that induces a woman to often go through this time and again, I cannot think?
More money, what I did to earn it and another rankle
Seeing the small wage I am earning, or better put getting, this is as much as a working man can bring up properly. After working here for about a year, we started to work Sundays and all, making a full seven nights a week, so then my wages jumped to the highest ever in my life and I wanted it with an extra mouth to feed. I was now bringing home about two pounds a week and I’ll own I did sometimes get some bonus although I did not give the foreman anything to get it. Every week more and more jobs were put on bonus; we also got a rise to seven pence (2.9p today) an hour.
I was doing very well on the benches fitting to half a thousandth of an inch on all different parts of a Vicker’s machine gun and the Lewis machine gun. We made all the parts from moulded casts to final sand blasting ready for assembling. They then went to Vickers for final assembly and testing. I seemed to take to this very different work like a duck to water. To make this a little more clear I was working at the next vice to a Mr Wilson of Beadingwood Lodge Horsham.
That gives you some idea how far some of the workers came from to work in this factory, they went to and from by train every day¹
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1 During WW1, Lanston Monotype asked the London Brighton & South Coast railway to construct a Halt at Salfords for the specific use of its workers. It was opened on 8 October 1915 with direct access across the railway into and out of the factory.
When we were both on the same work I could often do three pieces to his one. Mine would all pass through the inspection room, whereas some of his would be returned for correction. That meant if he was only earning his usual pay I was getting almost double that amount for you had to do twice as many for time and a half and thrice as many for double pay. I would always get to work early, go straight up to the stores and sign for a micrometer. That’s the instrument you measure up all your work with to half a thousandth of an inch. There were not a lot of these to be had, so early ones got them all. The others had to borrow ours to measure up their work, they were not allowed to take the micrometer away from my vice. Now if you would like to know what half a thousandth of an inch looks like, it’s the edge of a cigarette paper, while the edge or say thickness of an ordinary piece of newspaper measures two thousandth of an inch. On most of this work you are allowed a margin of error of about one thousandth, as some parts are scrap at one and a half. So you can see the advantage of having a micrometer laying beside you all night so that you can give a frequent check up on your work. You certainly must not take any chances on a job like this as every box of parts as soon as finished goes straight into the inspection room to be tested with machines that show up a margin of error of less than one ten thousandth of an inch. Should you by any chance send in a box of scrapped work you’ve had it. I have seen many get their marching orders at an hours notice in the middle of the night. Then they have to sit in the canteen until morning if they should come by train.
All parts start out at the beginning in boxes of one hundred and ten pieces. You must sign them out and sign them in again, stating number of pieces so you cannot easily get rid of any you have scrapped. I have seen men throw these inside water mills and take a chance they will not be missed, but they usually were. The limit is that at least one hundred pieces will go through all the operations on the machines, the benches and grinders. The average would be about thirty operations from casting to the final sand blasting. Take a lock frame for instance, there are seventy different operations and it’s only about four inches square, but very complicated. Some of the parts I often worked on were lock frames, side levers, lifting levers, extractors, triggers, firing pins, tumblers, fuse links and many more.
I took home from the scrap heap one piece of each kind to fit up a complete lock of a Vickers machine gun. I had to find three different springs all different kinds to make it work, as we did not make these at our works. Although I only saw one of these locks fitted up about three times I made mine work perfectly and I still have it.
Another thing that used to rankle me while I worked here, as I said I used to get in early each night and there were quite a few chairs standing about in the machine shop and first to get them liked to keep them for the night. At any slack time one was allowed to sit down, but there was only about one chair for every six persons. All chairs were exactly alike so you had a job to swear by them as being yours. I often got one of these chairs and put it under the bench at my vice. On coming out after the first hour break from the mess room I found my chair had been stolen. This happened three or four times and I had my suspicion of the man I thought used to pinch it as I knew him to be a late comer and I felt sure could not possibly get one. So I accused him of taking it, but he swore it was not my chair, so on the following night I took a piece of chalk in my pocket and I put BP on the back before putting it under the bench. On coming from the mess room first break sure enough it was gone again. I walked along to where the man was who I had accused the night before as I went up behind him there on the back for all to see was BP and sitting on it was Mr Brackpool one of the men I used to ride home with while living at Turners Hill each morning. I just said thank you as I grabbed the back leg of the chair and tore it from under him. I will own his backside hit that concrete floor a fair plonker and that was the nearest I ever came to a fight at the Lanston Monotype factory. I put the chair behind me and faced him as he jumped up in a trembling fury with his two fists clenched. I dared him to lay a hand on me if he did not want to be carried home and he thought better of it and swore a lot of abusive language. Although fists and stones may break my bones, names will never hurt me. I then turned the chair round and showed him the chalk marks and walked away with it. I never had another chair stolen all the time I was there.
The Fight I did witness
I did witness one of the one sided fights here I have ever seen. Two boys had evidently quarrelled in the shop, but you don’t dare fight without the risk of the sack. One was short the other much taller. The tall one was waiting outside the cloakroom door in the morning. Soon after the shorter boy came out not expecting to meet him evidently. He only got a few yards outside of the workshop when the tall one rushed at him and smashed punches at him left and right, he must have hit the short boy fifty times in the first minute. The tall boy was trembling like an aspen leaf in his blind rage; the short boy had now backed up against the cloakroom wall to prevent being knocked sprawling. He had not made any effort to return one blow, only used both hands and arms to protect his head as best he could and he did this quite well. I called on the tall boy to stop such a one sided fight, then I jolly neigh had twenty pitch into me for interfering as they called it. They said let them fight their own fight, but there was only one fighting and then after several minutes it happened. All the while he was trying to get punches at his head, but he had wrapped it up like a parcel and as the blows were being evenly rained upon him I think he got the timing of them. Just as he was delivering a terrific blow to the head, the (short) boy suddenly ducked and the (tall) boy’s fist went smash into the rough cast brick wall ready to break every bone in his hand. I think it nearly did for it was real massacre, the last punch he delivered I certainly could not feel any pity for him although he (the tall boy) was howling. The other boy walked away without shedding a tear, but I do not know how he stood up to all that pummelling, he certainly had pluck to bear pain if he couldn’t fight. I noticed it was a long time before the tall boy came back to work again. They were both about seventeen years old.
A Union and more pay
After being on the benches for several months I am now getting eight pence half penny per hour(3.5p today). We have now all joined a trade union and paying a contribution each week to have someone to fight our grievances for us and to improve the wretched conditions for we are aware they are the worst in the Country for this class of work. Very soon from then onwards conditions did really improve, for I was seldom getting less than three John Bradbury’s (£1 notes) in my pay packets. If you are over fifty you will remember these so I did not have to worry even if I did not get a bonus job. Anyway there was still some you could not earn any extra even though they were bonus jobs, they had been timed all wrong, perhaps purposely, for it was the day shift who set the different times. Each night you never was sure whether you would get any work at all or not as I spent many nights in there without doing a stroke of work. Often there was not enough work to go round, but you got your ordinary pay, yet the boys in the front line trenches were crying out for more machine guns. It nearly made your heart bled for someone had blundered somewhere.
Looking for more recruits
Every so often word came through for the firm to re-examine one hundred workers, fifty day and fifty night shift for recruits in the services. This was carried out in the medical room at the factory, so the Foreman came round the night before it was due asking each if we had been rejected or in C3 category. They found the deaf, the dumb, the half blind, the cripples and the weak hearts and what have you. Five times I got my marching orders for a re-examination, five times I was rejected. Two Doctors must have learnt by heart every mole or freckle I might possess on my entire body and out of the hundred examined not ten was ever passed. But if they had sent up the nice able bodied chaps that were sheltering there they would have passed at least ninety nine. I found out why for they said our boss Mr Pierpoint Morgan’s wife was German, so that was his little game. Then after about the second examination they took mine and many of the others, our protection badges¹ away. The Foreman asked us for them, goodness knows what for as some were totally rejected. The badges had printed on them, “On War Service” under the crown. Again I noticed none of the young able bodied men had lost theirs, so this made us all rather mad. After talking to some of the other men about it, I said they had no right to take our badges all the while we are on war work and I will set to work and make my own. The second night having it taken away I was wearing a new one. In the messroom that night you should have seen the others cluster round. Those that had lost theirs could hardly believe it possible that I had made it; they thought I had bought it somewhere until I showed them the solder at the back. They said dang it the front is perfect, then a chorus make me one. Much later on I heard they had received an order from the War Office to withdraw so many badges, so you see the trickery they used again to protect the well and able men.

So I did set to work each morning after I got home to make a few to use up the brass plate I had got. I sold them at a half crown each, but I could not satisfy half of those who wanted them. I might add I was able to borrow from stores the right size lettering to stamp “On War Service” round the edge, this was a great help, but I made the crown myself and I still got mine as good as ever it was.
This badge was found in the garden of a house in Haroldslea Horley in 2002 (P Cox)
Other items I made
I also made a lot of broaches, tie pins and other trinkets and sold them at the factory. I would get a jeweller to take them home and dip them in pure gold as I finished them. It would vary on size from one shilling to five shillings per dip. I have one or two now and they are as good as when they were done after being worn hundreds of times. I have also got enough pieces of Vickers machine gun parts, all proportioned to three quarter of an inch scale to make a watch chain, yet I have never found time.
My deafness
I suppose this will not a little surprise you as although I am what most would call very deaf, not one I spoke with in the factory knew of this. I was very much at home and working here, more so than I had been for many years. I felt very bucked up as my deafness was so bad now that I could not hear anything spoken in the ordinary way or in general conversation at all. (Presumably this is why he was classified medically C-3.) This makes one feel they are being pushed out in the cold. I found I was being shunned by most people and a very very few people with any thought of help and patience to talk to one with deafness. Some almost treat it as a crime yet I’ll own I have never had that feeling that I have heard so many people accuse us of that we are always thinking just because we do not hear what others are saying that everyone near and around us are saying nasty horrid things about us. Of course they are not unless we deserve it
I’m sure you can realise the din and noise in this big factory was terrific as there was six rows of overhead shafting nearly one hundred yards long, driven by huge overhead electric dynamos. One for each double row of shafting with belts running to machines the whole way through and driving all kinds of machines. Milling machines, watermills, planers, drilling machines, grinders, screw cutting lathes, automatic lathes and so on to say nothing of all the noise on the benches with all their hammering and filing. I could even hear the conversation going on the benches opposite four or five yards away as they had to shout to make themselves heard. When they spoke to me outside I had to beg their pardon, they would say you blooming well heard me in the shop alright, what’s the matter now? When I said I was deaf they couldn’t believe me, of course its because the noise is not near so loud to me as it was to them and their voices was above the noise
Winning, finding and making things
It was usual to hold a raffle in the shop every week or two, only 3 pence a ticket. I won on three occasions, a small clock, a set of three cut throat razors in a case and a cash prize.
One morning as I was cycling home and had nearly arrived there, it was a very dark morning and I had got my light on, it showed something up laying in the middle of the road. I went back and picked up a nice new gentleman’s umbrella. I tried to find the owner but never did, I must have had it for more then twenty years before discarding it.
As they had no work for me to do one night I took a look round the shop scrap heap for a piece of metal. I found just the thing I wanted, a small piece of square metal rod about one foot long, so I set to work to make a tin opener. I had not seen one like it then but I have a similar one since. The finished article is a square piece of quarter inch metal rod about ten inches long sharpened to point at the far end and also bent. You push this through the top centre of the tin and then a three corner cutter slides along the square rod set to go just inside the edge of the tin top and then turn the wing nut on the cutter to fix it tight. Press the cutter down to pierce the tin top and with a handle fixed to the other end of rod, hold the tin firm with one hand while pulling the handle with the other then the top of the tin is taken out with the edge of the tin all bevelled, making it impossible to cut or hurt yourself in any way. It can be used left hand or right hand. I still have it after forty years use.
Lighting that could show up the Factory as a target
This massive building was all lit up with mercurial lighting which gives near daylight without throwing shadows. Every bit of the roof was glass and one could see the factory miles distant while on the ground as the sides were nearly all glass as well. They would not shut down and put the lights out unless they received word that the German planes or Zeppelins were within ten miles of the factory. Yet the height they used to fly even in those days we said they could easily shut off their engines and glide over the factory at that distance. All through the war they did not shut down for air raids half a dozen times.
I was always very glad to get home in the morning as night work is very tiring seven nights a week. Under artificial light every night for years it’s real cruelty when you enter bright sunlight, the tears roll down your cheeks and the pain is almost unbearable. For this work there was no vacation, it was real gruesome everlasting work without much rest for I was putting in ninety eight hours each week inside the factory and working ninety one of them. I can honestly say all my fifty seven years of my working life I have averaged between sixty and ninety hours per week and I still do in the summer sometimes.
Home life
I had a nice large garden to go with this cottage (at Wetherhill) and as two old lady’s (sic) lived next door they offered me theirs as well. I said old lady’s (sic) and I mean old, although one was a young girl of eighty odd, Mrs Chubb. The other was a dear old soul, her mother, Mrs Schalholm was a centenarian in fact she was one hundred and four years old before she died. Although a very quaint old lady she was nimble on her pins. Almost to the last she used to walk up and down the garden path frequently in the fine weather.
In all the three years of night work I put in at the factory I only lost one night’s work. That was because my wife and I with the children had been out visiting for the day and we did not get home early enough and my wife had to almost hold me back by main force to prevent me from going to work late. She begged me to stay at home just that one night; it was so very lonely for her in such an outlandish place. Right in front of our house was a large piece of open common and very often gipsies would camp there. My wife said they would come round to the back door late at night and knock on the door for water and matches and such like, but she was far to frightened to open it to them, so they had to go somewhere else for them.
Most food stuffs were either very bad, very scarce or on ration. I well remember one day my wife was about to make a pudding, she had tipped the flour into the mixing bowl in a heap. I passed her and saw it like that, but as I passed it again a few minutes later there was no heap, it was flattened out. As I had not seen my wife go near it I went and said to her “have you touched that flour since you poured it out?” She assured me she had not so I started to examine it thoroughly. I piled it up again, yes and sure enough it was moving. Well I thought that can’t be happening on its own. I then got a magnifying glass and to my horror I never saw anything quite like it before, not even skippery cheese had a look in on this lot. Mites, why they were there by the million, it looked just one mass of microbes. I said “have we been eating any of this stuff”, she said “yes I’ve made several puddings from it” yet we hadn’t suffered or even notice anything was amiss, so what the eye don’t see the heart don’t grieve and as there were none other to get, we went on eating it. You could not see anything wrong with it when it was cooked except I called it meat pudding instead of plain.
With my two large gardens I grew nearly all the vegetables we required. I had lovely crops of potatoes, they average a gallon a root, also onions were very fine, some over one pound each. There was one thing I grew that sticks out a mile from the rest, it was a plant of a heavy cropping tomato sent out by Poyders of St Albans. On one of their plants that I grew, an enormous truss formed about two feet square and I took the trouble to count just that one truss of buds, flowers and fruits, the first fruits were ripening and they were a little larger than walnuts, but there were well over five hundred on that single truss. Nearly every truss on the dozen plants had from one to two hundred and more. I won quite a bit of money at the factory. I offered ten shillings to three pence to anyone guessing within five of the correct number. No one got to within two hundred although some did chance a wild guess in the three hundred mark. After getting all the bets I could, I cut it off and took it down there and everyone was astounded.
It was all the craze while living here, making a concoction called Bee wine. The bees looked something like grains of tapioca. You had a few dozen in a two Ib jam jar filled with water. While they laid on the bottom of the jar they continually send up tiny bubbles, then after a while each will rise to the surface stay for a time, then fall to the bottom again and so there was this continual up and down all the time. After a few weeks you drew off the wine and drank it, then filled the jar with water to make more. The bees even multiplied and you would soon have several jars working and even some to give away. It tasted rather like ginger beer. (so what were the bees?)
One Saturday I set out to ride my cycle to Horsham as a Mr Wilson, a man I mentioned earlier, had told me there was a jam factory in East Street, so he offered to meet me in the Carfax and show me where to find it. He said each person could only have one seven pound stone jar, so I asked two neighbours to give me their names. They were quite willing to do so when I told them it was a terrible journey for just seven pounds of jam and so by showing the other two names and where I came from, they were quite willing to let me have three seven pounds of jam. I had two carriers on my cycle, one for a child on the front, another large one at the back. I put the jam on the back in a basket I had brought with plenty of wrapping, then cycled with Mr Wilson to his home at Beadingwood Lodge where he had been a butler for many years in the big house there. I bought from him a hen and twelve baby chicks for one pound. These I put on the front carrier and felt very proud of these two deals and thought it a good morning’s work, killing two birds with one stone.
I used to often go back to work with only four hours sleep in the afternoon by doing something all the other twenty. I would often work in the garden until dinner time at something or other. There was one thing I didn’t go short of that was meat. The butcher said he had lots of customers with large families who could not possibly take all their rations because of the price, so I used to call in and he would have it all packed ready for me and say that would be twelve shillings or what ever it was. He would mark my book and when I got home I would find a nice large leg of lamb or loin of pork, always something nice. I told him I was earning very good money, nearly always well over three pounds a week, even more with a good bonus job and my word I’m not half going to miss this wage when the war is over. The very best week I ever had our trade union fought for some back bonus we should have received. I said nothing to my wife about it, I threw the packet into her lap and when she opened it she nearly had a fit, as it contained well over seven pounds and that was a lot of money then. Did we go out and celebrate, no we did not and a good thing too for it was only a few months later the armistice was signed and so the war to end all wars was at an end, but it didn’t as we were all to find out some years later. After the war if anyone had asked me what had astounded me during the war I think I would say that massive gun the Germans used to shell Paris. It was an enormous thing, far the largest gun that had ever been made and everyone nick-named it Big Bertha, I don’t know why. It could throw a tremendous large shell at least about seventy miles at a terrific height yet never one fell on English soil.
Just across a small field behind our house lived an old retired farmer and his wife. I would often go over there to get some apples as he had a nice size orchard, then we would get talking on farming and such like. He would make me smile as I watched him cutting up all his rags into very small pieces and tearing up all his newspapers in a shed. I said “what ever are you going to all that trouble for?” “Oh” he said “all this is mixed with all the scraps that come from indoors, like tea leaves, egg shells and vegetable peelings, then they all go into my bean trench and I get wonderful crops from them” and he certainly did, I saw them.
One day he took me and showed me a rat trap he had made, in fact he had made several and was anxious to patent it as it was a wonderful rat catcher, but they said it was far too heavy and clumsy to be a good selling proposition. The one he showed me must have weighed between a quarter and a half a hundred weight. It was like one heavy box fitting inside another heavy box, the top one was lifted up and then delicately set so that if even a mouse went through the lower one, when half way through, the top one dropped on it and killed it, a rat or any other animal. It was so delicately set I quite believe a beetle would have sprung it.
The end of the War
So after the armistice we only had a few weeks to finish off the jobs that had already been started, then we were all given our marching orders, all except the young boys and girls who were retained as cheap labour to go back on Monotype work as before the war. So that all who had not got a job had to go on the dole. As I was one I had to go all the way to Redhill to sign on each day, a distance of six miles each way. I asked if they would help me get another job in the factory, but they said they could only help me to get another gardener’s job, the work that I left. I soon got fed up drawing the dole; this was more like charity, getting something for nothing so in the second week I was making my own enquiries. I heard they wanted a second gardener at Bridgeham less than half a mile away so I went straight off to see the head gardener. After a talk he said “you are the very man we want, go and see the boss Mr John Newton”. So I did and only a few minutes later I was engaged. This meant yet another move as a lodge went with the job and no catch as I actually saw the lodge and it was empty this time. What have we had to endure while living in this cottage, no electricity, no bathroom, cesspool drainage that had to be emptied by the householder when necessary, first time with mains water, coal fires and oil and candle lighting.