Those pupils who passed the 11 plus examination were offered a place at a grammar school or at Southwark Central School, which was the poor boys grammar school, until they were 16 years of age. I passed the examination with very good marks and my parents were offered a residential scholarship place for me at Christs College (the Bluecoat School) in Horsham but they could not afford any additional family expenditure so it was Southwark Central for me from the term beginning September 1935.  Even this made life difficult for the family because, being the eldest son, it had been expected that I would start work at 14 years of age and so help with the family finances.

The teachers at Southwark Central  were wholly different to those at the Elementary School,  they wanted us to succeed and  we boys also wanted to do well in order to obtain better jobs than those boys who left elementary school at 14.  In addition to the same type of school building as my previous school there was a technical building with laboratories and workshops and, furthermore, it was situated next to a park (now the Imperial War Museum) which we used as a games area.

Although the teaching process was not based on fear of punishment, as at the local school, discipline was strict and was enforced, not only by the teachers, but by prefects drawn from pupils in the 4th & 5th form (there being no 6th form) who were empowered to award “Lines” as a punishment  -  Jones, you were talking in Assembly. Write out “I must not talk in Assembly”  30 times and hand it to me tomorrow.

The school day started with Assembly - a hymn, collect, Lord’s prayer and notices. We all went home for lunch which meant, for me, running one and a half miles in both directions in order not to be late back.  The subjects taught included English, Maths, French or Spanish, History, Geography, Chemistry, Art, Woodwork, Metalwork, Physical Education, Religious Education, Book-keeping, Shorthand and, in addition to normal lessons, typing classes were held after school and most of us obtained an R.S.A. certificate for 40 words a minute before we were 15 years of age.

The English teacher introduced us to many authors; Maths included algebra and trigonometry; the choice of Spanish as a second language seemed odd until I joined the big wide world and found that there was a lot of trade with Spanish speaking countries; the Geography teacher was wordly wise; History was mainly a list of dates with events alongside; Chemistry was interesting; I was not good at Art; in Woodwork we made some very useful pieces, the same in Metalwork including an adjustable spanner; Physical Education included team games of cricket and soccer; Religious Education included the learning of collects by heart; Book-keeping taught us how to keep a company’s books up to the preparation of balance sheets and in Shorthand we achieved 60 words per minute. These last two subjects together with typing prepared us for jobs in City of London offices.

We worked hard, had homework to do every evening and got up to all the normal schoolboy pranks, the best of which was placing stink bombs under the cushion of the chair of an unpopular teacher - retribution followed swiftly.

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Just before I started at Southwark Central school  I joined the Boys Brigade and played a side drum in the band. I also joined the choir of St. Agnes church, Kennington. This was not my local church but they paid their choirboys seventeen shillings and six pence a quarter for two services on Sunday (11am and 6.30pm) and two choir practices each week plus two shillings for weddings. As a choir we sang in Southwark Cathedral quite frequently and, during the summer months, evensong  in  St. Pauls Cathedral with a fish and chip supper afterwards

The Vicar at St. Agnes looked as if he had just stepped straight out of a Giles cartoon with his bushey eyebrows etc and  we choirboys looked positively angelic in our black cassocks, white surplices and stiff white ruffs. Appearances, however, are deceptive and our many misdeeds earned us frequent rebukes from the vicar.

Boys Brigade meetings were held on two evenings each week when we had band practice, drill, first aid and gymnastics and on Sunday afternoons when we members of the band marched around the local streets playing marching tunes. Boys Brigade and Choir went together very well because the evening meetings did not clash neither did the two church services on Sunday clash with playing in the band. In addition, I used my Choir money to help pay for two weeks at the annual Boys Brigade summer camp held at Swanage in Dorset.

Just before I went to my first camp in 1936, when I was 12 years old, I was told the facts of life by other boys (biology was not taught at Southwark Central). It took several days and many questions before I accepted what they said.

Another activity was the “Junior Circle” which was a club for children run by the Co-operative movement. In retrospect, it was sheer propaganda but there were free outings including a very big affair at Crystal Palace before it was destroyed by fire. One year, I think it was when I was 14, I entered a nationwide written competition based on knowledge of the Co-operative movement and my prize, along with about 30 other prize winners drawn from all corners of country, was a free weeks holiday in a large country mansion where, for the first time in my life, I had daily contact with boys and girls living north of London.

If, in these pages, I have given the impression that I accepted every holiday opportunity I was offered and also enjoyed days out or just a solitary walk in a park, then you would be correct. By myself I would daydream of having a job which had both adventure and security, a home of my own in the country, a car and a dog.
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My paternal grandfather died in 1937. He had been a very active man in his younger days having served in the Devon Regiment and, on retirement, the Post Office. He was a blind old man when I knew him but out and about every day with his white stick and, on several occasions, I acted as his eyes when he wanted to go anywhere by public transport such as to visit his sister who lived at Mortlake and the journey required a change of buses at Clapham Common. I wish that I had known him better.

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My main source of pocket money for the three years from 12 to 15 years of age was obtained by assisting a Co-operative milkman from 8.30am to 4.30pm on Saturdays for which he paid me two shillings and sixpence per week. His vehicle was a two wheeled handcart  which had to be kept properly balanced otherwise it was very heavy to push and I had to take my turn with the pushing. His delivery area was north of the Walworth Road and included a mixture of houses and blocks of flats. The deliveries he gave to me were on the 1st, 2nd , 3rd etc floors in the blocks of flats. In addition to milk in half pint, pint and 2 pints bottles, he sold eggs, butter and tea and, if specially ordered, cream. I got the job originally by going to the milk depot at 8am one Saturday and asking if anyone needed help.

Saturday was customer payment day and the co-op gave dividend checks (metal discs) to their customers to the value of the amount of their payment for milk. So, to start the day, the milkman would give me £2 in small change and several poundsworth of metal discs which he topped up as the day progressed. We carried the milk from the cart in special carrying crates which had a central handle. Each crate held the equivalent of 8 pints of milk and we normaly carried two crates each to stop too many return visits to the cart. So, laden with two full crates, a pocket full of change and another pocket full of metal discs I climbed up and down the stairs in the blocks of flats delivering milk and collecting the week’s milk money; then pushing the cart to the next stop. By 4.30pm when we returned to the depot to unload I was so so tired, but I got to know people, especially old people living on their own who insisted on giving me a halfpenny or penny tip. I am sure that there are no better people for friendliness and generosity than those who lived in that working class area of London and I cannot remember that we ever had milk or other goods stolen from the cart whilst we were delivering milk etc. They were honest people.

At Christmas time most customers tipped me; and the milkman received so many alcoholic drinks that he was in no fit state to push the cart. He also had his favourite female customers and he would disappear once or twice every Saturday for 15 minutes or so each time (whilst I was delivering) to have a cup of tea with these customers.

Pushing a milk cart in snow was difficult, pushing it in rain was miserable but pushing it in thick fog was earie. Sometimes the fog was so dense that you could only see half of a tram with all its lights on. That milk round certainly toughened me up physically and, also, it made me aware of the poor living conditions of some of our customers.

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“Vote, vote, vote for Harry Day” we used to shout around the streets at Election time, Harry Day being our local Labour M.P. and schools were closed to pupils on Election days.

We lived in a Labour stronghold with its poor housing, high unemployment, low wages and lack of educational opportunities. Our English teacher encouraged us to debate political issues which made me aware of the views of other boys and I also read “The Ragged Trousered Philanthropist”. So I became a Labour Party supporter at an early age and wanted to change the system of “Haves” and  “Have Nots”. 

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In 1938, at the age of 14, I had my first pair of long trousers and my friends who did not pass their 11 plus examination in 1935 started work as tea boys in the numerous small factories in the area or van boys.  Van boys were employed by all goods carriers (motors and horse drawn) to sit in the back of their vehicles and assist with loading and unloading. They had a rope dangling from the roof of the vehicle which they used when climbing in and out over the tailboard.