First Draft: South Shields. The Life of Brian

I found after a while at Mrs. Greenwell's that old faces go and new ones appear. I arrived back after classes one day and found in the lounge a new face sitting reading the paper. He quickly sprang to his feet and introduced himself as Brian, an old resident of Mrs. Greenwell's.

Brian would be 2 years older than I, I suppose, just under 6 feet tall with lank dark blond hair parted down one side and straight across. I found him very polite with a well-modulated almost accent-less voice. He was I learnt an ex-student at the College and was here for a while.

A day or 2 later, it was Saturday and just about everyone was out and I was in the lounge pensively deciding what to do when Brian walked in. As we chatted asking each other questions, Brian's story slowly emerged. Brian came from the Home Counties near London and had attended public school down there. Wanting to go to sea his father had sent him to South Shields Marine College where he had completed the course and failed his examinations. Studying and sitting the examinations again he, with "a spell of bad luck" failed again and "Father was none too pleased".

Yes, Brian failed again for the third time and said "I'm afraid Father went a bit wacko when I broke the bad news and demanded I return home... immediately". Brian then said, " I gave him a few days to cool off before I returned home, usually by then Father can be reasoned with".

Brian then told me his father had washed his hands of him and suggested he make his own way in life. To this end he had given him a cheque to bank to give him a start and Brian had headed back to South Shields "where all his good friends were". He was now in the process in looking for a job and he thought his prospects were good through his network of contacts. He had returned to stay with "kind Mrs. Greenwell who always made him feel at home".

As the next few weeks passed Brian became the polite friend to everyone always ready to listen to anyone's story or have a sympathetic ear for anyone’s woes and a kind remark. He had got a job shortly after he arrived as a store-man in a local potato crisps making factory and as he told Mrs. Greenwell "everyone has to start on the bottom rung of the ladder" and he was "determined to climb that ladder to better things".

I hope the story of Brian doesn't get too mixed up from here on. Some of what I am about to relate came to my ears second hand a few weeks later after the end of term break, some before the term break and some from Brian himself.

One morning at breakfast Mrs. Greenwell popped her head round the lounge door and said something like "Oh. Brian I want to see you about the rent, can you drop into the kitchen before work?” As most of us left the lounge to pick up our books for classes we could see Brian in earnest conversation with Mrs. Greenwell at the kitchen door. I at least didn't think much of this at the time. A few days later Mrs. Greenwell again put her head around the door asking if everything was alright... about the meal that is and said to Brian "Brian have those tins of crisps arrived yet?” Brian said " within two days Mrs Greenwell, my apologies for the delay".

Again I didn't think much of this short conversation between Mrs. Greenwell and Brian. The term was coming to an end and I was exited and looking forward to going home to see my parents once more and all the familiar homely things. John and Gyp, to walk up the green paddocks and bike down to Milnthorpe and a hundred and one other things.

After a few days at home, one morning Dad had come in for his 10 o'clocks’ when there was a knock on the door and Mum answered the knock. A male voice asked for Mr. Irving could he speak to him. Dad came to the door and went out. I could hear the buzz of voices he came back in and said to Mum "Mary, can you get me some money from the drawer?" Mum returned with the requested amount and he went out again, there was more conversation and then the sound of a car starting and driving away. Dad came in and said to me "here’s' a friend to see you" and on the doorstep stood Brian. I can tell you my heart leapt, I didn't know what to say... or do. Without another word Dad went out to continue his work.

It was a woe begotten Brian who sat on the sofa and he told me his tale. He had been thrown out of Mrs. Greenwell's for rent arrears and something about a pay records mix-up at the crisp factory and no wages for him. Nowhere to go, he suddenly thought of me and "by jingo, my address just happened to be in his wallet, and here I am". "Could I help?"

All kind of thoughts were running through my mind, Mrs. Greenwell came flooding back, the rent, the crisps, my address... I didn't remember giving it to him. Brian didn't ring quite true. I sat there I remember saying little to him; a wave of embarrassment had flooded over me. Was it my fault he was here?

Dad came in at lunchtime and Mum appeared, she had made herself scarce, to leave Brian and I to talk. Brian stood up as Dad came in and mumbled an apology for the trouble and upset he had caused. "If only he could stay for a few days to get his self together, he'd be off". I remember Dad saying in a firm voice "No lad, we haven’t room for you here. There's an Express bus through tonight, I'll help you with the fare". I think Brian mentioned returning to South Shields, I'm not sure now.

So Dad ran Brian down to the bus and saw him off. I never saw Brian again or heard what happened to him. But there is a postscript to this tale.

First Draft: South Shields. Tussling with Samuel Morse

Samuel Morse was of course the inventor of the Morse code and yes, I had quite a tussle in both sending and receiving of the code. With sending it was the case of being left handed and sending from a right-handed position. The flow of my Morse dots and dashes were uneven and not too good to copy.

With receiving I had a problem with pausing momentarily to think... what letter was that and in the end missing one or more following letters following letters. This habit took a lot of shaking off. In learning to receive Morse there are often two plateaus’ where you seem to stick and not be able to receive faster. These are usually 8-9 words per minute and again at about 15-16 words per minute. Mine were a little longer than normal.

When our speed of sending progressed into double figures we would all sit around the table and each of us in turn would do a period of sending to the others. Some of us were good even senders and easy to copy others were ragged and uneven and more difficult to copy. I was I'm afraid one of the worst ones and a groan would go up when it was my turn. The instructor once or twice a week at this stage would sit in on a session of sending and monitoring each student in turn observing progress. At the end of that student's session he would if it were necessary advise how to improve in the sending technique.

But we will leave that for now.

Adult Students

The College had a few adult students on a shortened course. These were ex forces personnel who had done their 2 years national service in the Army or RAF as wireless operators. Their Morse was close to the speed required and they just needed polishing and learn procedures. They had a smattering only of radio theory and practise so the course concentrated on this area only. Most seemed to be in their early twenties and to us seemed to be able to send at very fast speeds. We only saw them when they had one of their Morse practise sessions using the same room as us. They always ignored us teenage youngsters.

First Draft: South Shields. A Financial Dilemma

Whilst at Lawe Road I had a financial problem, how this came about is now lost in the mists of time. All I remember is I had spent most of my pocket money during the weekend and I had expenses coming the week.

What little I had left I remember thinking glumly, I might as well have nothing at all. Suddenly a thought flashed through my mind. The dog track at the stadium at Westoe... go up there, take a chance... I can't be much worse off.

Off I went, I was all fired up walking all the way. As I walked that evening the knot of excitement in my stomach grew tighter and the Adrenalin was running. I joined the queue entered the stadium and looked at the race card which had been shoved in my hand. As I looked and worked out what to do I realised it was no good putting anything on the favourite, the odds always seemed short. I spotted the second favourite list , the odds were better. I divided my money up and realised I had enough for 4 races. Yes, I would put a bet on the second favourite each time.

I went up to the Tote window with the shortest queue and when my turn came I gave the name of the dog and proffered my money. The man looked hard at me and said " your not 18, your not even 16. get off with you!". I turned away a couple of paces and stood dejectedly, my face burning red with embarrassment . An arm came from the queue and tapped me on the shoulder and as I turned round a cheery voice said " I'll put in on for you, son. How much and which dog?" I gave him my money and waited. As he left the window he gave me my ticket and said " not a bad choice". Then as an after thought he said " if you want any more bets. Look for me " and he, as he started to walk away said again "if you don't see me go to the the tote when they are busy, they don't have time to check".

The results came up on the board, I'd won and in a daze I went to collect my winnings. The next 2 races I saw my cheery new friend and he put monet on for me again. I again selected the second favourite in each case. I won both times again. I was in a bigger daze. The next race My fiend was not to be seen. I took his suggestion and went to one of the windows when the tote was busy and stood in the queue, my heart in my mouth. The queue was backing up behind me and then my turn came. In a gruff voice with my coat collar turned up I said " a shilling on Black Baron to win". The man's eyes never looked up he took my money with one hand and turned the tote machine handle with the other and handed me my ticket. I breathed a pent up breathe and my heart raced, I'd done it.

Of the 8 races, putting my money each time on the second favourite I won on the first 4 races and lost on the 5th one. I won again on the 6th and 8th races and lost on the 7th race. I decided at that point not to chance my luck any further, be satisfied with my winnings and go home.

As I turned to go my cheerful new found friend passed and enquired of my luck. I told him of my 6 wins and 2 losses and with a surprised look said " thats better than I did, how did you manage that?" I then told him how I had picked the second favourite in each race because the favourite paid such poor odds. My new friend paused, digesting this piece of information and then he burst out laughing and said " you don't know much about dog racing, do you?" I said "no, but I've won over 16 shillings". He walked away still laughing and shaking his head in disbelief.

I left the stadium and caught the next trolley bus going back to Ocean Road. I was over the moon with my winnings, not only had I got my 10 shillings pocket money back I had increased it further by almost 7 shillings. I was full of the exuberance of youth, you can do anything when you are 16.

Postscript

I never went back to the stadium again to try my luck. In fact I've seldom had the urge to gamble throughout my life other than the odd lottery ticket or raffle. Occasionally I will have a go in a sweepstake or go into the Casino to have a look and then spend my loose change. I've never had the compulsion.

First Draft: South Shields. A Change of Address

Coming up the to the end of the first year I began to get the itch of change. I don't know if it was the regimentation of the hostel or the lack of my course companions... Jock had now finished his course and obtained his qualifications... or was it that everything was deck orientated at the hostel?

What brought it to a head was a conversation with another student on my course. He knew I was in the hostel and he asked me if I was interested in going boarding, the establishment where he boarded had a vacated bed. I thought it over and visited his boarding house. I liked what I saw and decided to ask my parents if I could move.

The Westmorland Education Department administered my scholarship and the decision to change was in the their hands. Mrs. Greenwell who ran the boarding house was registered with the South Shields Marine College as suitable and the boarding fees were ?4.00 per week, a little more than the hostel fees but were considered acceptable. I was free to change if I desired.

So after a year in the hostel and after the Easter break I moved down to Mrs. Greenwell's at 47, Lawe Road, a short walking distance from the College in Ocean Road. Lawe Road began at the bottom of Ocean Road and was on rising ground overlooking the park, the River Tyne harbour seawalls and out to sea. The terraced house was large and 3 storied with a semi basement level below. My room was large on the top floor and shared with 3 other students and our 2-dormer window looked out to sea, a terrific view. Even with 4 students and 5 beds and wardrobes the room still seemed large.

Of the other 4 occupants of the room I only remember 2 of them distinctly. One, Clive Jewel who was an Angelo-Indian, very quiet and polite. The other, I think his name was Ken was from Oxford, heavily built and dark tightly curly hair. His claim to fame was he always used to smell sweaty and his bed was next to mine. He was also very pushy and a bully if he was allowed.

Mrs. Greenwell in her early fifties was a pleasant lady and friendly, always willing to pass the time of day for a few moments in her busy day. She had a daughter of about 16-17 and a husband who appeared to be partly invalided and helped her to run the boarding house. They lived in the rear half of the ground floor and the basement below. Mrs. Greenwell ran a "tight ship" and was quick to point out any misdemeanour and that way we all lived in harmony.

Of the regular boarders, a mixed bunch, most were attending the Marine College. Some like me doing their initial courses and one of two upgrading qualifications. Then there was the floating ones, a chief engineer boarding while his ship was being overhauled, and a journalist who stayed occasionally. 3 seafarers from a Norwegian ship also in for overhaul, a failed ex student working temporarily in a warehouse. And more.

The permanent students numbered about 10 in number and today over fifty years later I only remember some of them now, the ones who caught my interest.

A large front room was set aside for the boarders? use and double up as the dining room at meal times. Mrs. Greenwell would come bustling in and shush out at meal times while she prepared the table and the seating. Sometimes if she had a full house with meals there would be 2 sittings.

It was here whilst at Lawe Rd at the age of 16 that I learnt to smoke? now to my disgust. Smoking certainly put pressure on my pocket money even though I only smoked a few at this time. I continued to smoke for the next 25 years until the mid-1970s when I saw the light and ceased, after watching a TV program showing the effects of smoking.

Yes, I enjoyed my time at Lawe Road with more to come.

First Draft: South Shields. Study and Problems

As the weeks and months passed, the first term completed and into the second term I began to have problems. Small ones at the beginning. It really began with the concepts of A.C. theory and sine’s, cosines and tangents of the angle if you are into trigonometry. Each little piece of information was understandable but to put it all together and understand the basic concept wasn't. I did not fully understand it and as the course progressed I started little by little to drop behind.

At the start of this section of the course we were given a quick refresher into trigonometry. Everyone was conversant with it and I dare not put my hand up to plead my ignorance of the subject. Everyone was at least 16, sat their G.S.C.E. and passed in maths and therefore conversant with trigonometry. At 15 and not having attended grammar school I was a little out of my depth, especially when we moved on to the deeper the mathematical concepts.

To cut a long explanation short I did my best, learnt or memorised what I could, at 15 my mind and memory was fast and wide open to new information. Fortunately the tutors through periodic test papers realised my weakness and kept a sharp watch over my progress.

All course work was written down on the large blackboards. Whether it was explanations, formulae or circuits, everything was written in full. This we copied into our workbooks. If a particular explanation was too long to write up on the board it was dictated from the tutor's notes or sometimes direct from his memory. From these written notes and further amplified by the Admiralty Handbook everything we were required to know was at my fingertips.

I managed to get over this big hump with at least a working knowledge but it dogged me to some extent for the rest of the course. Otherwise I found the course work interesting and I enjoyed it especially when we came to radio theory and the time flew by. By this time waveforms, radio waves... sine waves, were starting to make a little more sense to me along with cosines and tangents. These were the basic building blocks of the understanding of electronics and radio.

The course by this time was moving at a fast pace and as I noted earlier I was having trouble keeping up. It was as though I was on a treadmill. As fast I had almost mastered one area we were into another section at full steam ahead. With the confidence of youth, I was virtually 16 now; I did not really think of failure, I told myself I would scrape through the course.

I just had to keep plugging away but more of that will come later.

Note: Like other entries I have written where I seem to be making excuses or seemingly complaining I leave the piece open to rewriting.

First Draft: South Shields. Mill Dam and the Mission

We often went down Mill Dam jetty to look at the ships and the busy jetty activity. On the way we would call in at the Mission to Seamen Club. This was run by the Anglican Church for the welfare of seamen of any nationality. Here could be found snooker tables or darts, get a cup of tea or a meal, relax in the lounge or a quiet read in the reading room. Religion was there for those in need and the Chaplin was always available. Otherwise the place ran just as any club would. Religion was not normally mentioned but there if it was needed.

It was only open to active seamen and we as prospective seamen were allowed to use the facilities, which we did. We would often call in even if it were only for a cup of tea or a meal or a game of snooker. Recently looking at their website and I see they are advertising bar facilities. Whether or not they serve alcohol or not I do not know at this point of time, they certainly didn't in the 1950 era.

The Mission had a roomy launch and on Sunday's the Chaplain would do his rounds of the new ships in port. He would go aboard each one and check for any welfare cases there might be in need of help. More often than not the visit was just a chat with the officer of the watch and the exchange of local news.

The roomy launch would hold quite a few more than the Chaplain and the launch master so the Mission ran a list to book a place on the launch. On a sunny Sunday it was pleasant on the river seeing all the berthed ships and sometimes laden vessels coming and going on the top of the tide. If the Sunday river activity were quiet the launch master would turn the wheel over to one of us and tell us to steer towards that buoy or that marker. He always made sure each of us had a turn of the wheel. Newbie?s always got first chance.

Just up from Mill Dam each summer 2 large ships called the Southern Venturer and the Southern Harvester would berth for cleaning and refit. These were whaling factory ships returned from the southern ocean. It was summer in the UK but down there in the high latitudes of the southern ocean winter reigned.

Everyone knew when the factory ships arrived; the smell of them would percolate through the town. Even after a thorough clean down they still smelt when we went down to Mill Dam. Tales would be told of how much money the crew had earned during the whaling season with high wages and catch bonuses. Of course the figure would increase as the tale was told and re-told but yes, the returns were high for the crew. It was a hard life for them down in the freezing cold wastes of the southern ocean and a lonely life too.

I'm not sure why Mill Dam was so called, may be once a stream entered the river here to be dammed for mill operation. I looked on an old 1860s map but Mill Dam was marked as a jetty and wharf even then. This was an old part of the town and I remember everything was old, who knows what existed here long ago.

Yes, Mill Dam was a busy jetty with seamen, shipping officials and other visitors coming and going from locally berthed ships picked up and set down by numerous small boats and launches. One boat, a dingy I remember clearly. Just 6 feet long, the operator rowed standing with one oar only from a rowlock on the centre of the stern. The blade of the oar was operated in a figure of eight motion and the dingy would shoot along in a twisting motion fast as if he had a motor on the stern. I remember him as proudly aware of his skills a little smile would start to appear at the corners of his mouth when he caught someone watching him. He always seemed to be delivering parcels and packages to the nearby ships.

And yes, Mill Dam was one of my favourite stopping places.

First Draft: South Shields. The Hostel Again

After College sometimes I walked back to the hostel in Westoe, at other times I would catch a trolley bus back to Westoe. It all depended on the state of my finances and the state of the weather. According to a cost of living index I consulted my 10 shillings pocket money per week in 1950 would be multiplied by 20, in 2000 terms equivalent to 10 pounds per week.

The Westmorland Education Department's suggested 10 shilling a week pocket money was to cover bus fares, sundries like toothpaste and soap, leisure activities, snacks, dry cleaning and a myriad other odds and ends. Mum used to send a ten-shilling note by post each week planning it to reach me by Friday.

Like breakfast the evening meal at the hostel was filling to even the hungriest student. The hostel manager and his wife were pleasant people and seemed well used to managing a crowd of boys. The manager had been a ships bosun (short for boatswain) who managed the deck crew on merchant ships; this would be the equivalent of a foreman on land. They kept a strict eye on us and made sure all rules were obeyed. The strictest rule was curfew, the door was locked and lights out at 10.30 p.m. sharp. Most of the students did not stir far during the week nights by the time dinner was over, some study completed and maybe a short walk 9 o’clock supper came round and with it a big mug of cocoa. Yes, we ate well.

Of our meals tinned bacon at breakfast took a bit of getting used to. It came in large commercial catering tins and pickled in brine and the colour of the bacon was very pale. The first thing I noticed unlike normally cured bacon, it easily dropped to bits, particularly the fat portion and the rind. The taste was different too but one got used to it after a while. It had one advantage, I had never liked the fat on bacon and I had always cut the fat away. With tinned bacon this was easy. When I was young I was often chastised for not eating the fat of the bacon but much later we all learnt the fat was harmful to us. All in all tinned bacon was not such a bad deal, it was just the peculiar taste and it was always wet from the grease and brine... and it did drop to pieces.

The hostel boys were in the main a pleasant lot. I remember only 2 names Catchpole and Leeming but no others at the moment, maybe the names registered only as neither was of very pleasant character.

A number of us seemed formed a loose group who went out together. At weekends we would often go along the cliff tops between Westoe and Marsden Point then catch a bus back to Westoe. At high tide the sea rollers would come in and smash along the base of the cliffs. Sometimes we would go along the bottom of the cliffs if the tide was out or at half tide jumping from rock to rock to clear the pools and timing the jumps to miss the incoming swell in the channels. A dangerous practise really especially at half tide as demonstrated when I the last across one swirling channel missed my footing and dropped into the cutting. Dripping wet from head to toe I had no recourse but to back track and go back to the hostel. Who would let me on to the bus when we got to Marsden Point? Besides I was shivering cold, luckily we were not far into the walk.

Sometimes we would visit downtown and go up to the market square on a Saturday morning and watch the fast talking salesmen with swift patter giving away dinner sets at a ridiculously low price to the first buyer and discounting to the additional buyers to start sales rolling. Then we might go a little further along down to Mill Dam and watch the shipping come and go to and from the various docks and wharves and wonder if and when we would go to sea and where we would go. The River Tyne was a busy place in the 1940s and 50s.

Especially in the evenings we would at times walk down to the bottom of Ocean Road where a permanently sited fun fair was located with a cafe and large American jukebox with its flashing neon lights and latest pop music records. Jazz was still popular in the 40s and into the 50s eras and the jukebox was always busy playing the latest tunes. This was a popular area both with locals and students as well as holiday people in the summer for South Shields was a popular holiday destination with its close proximity to Newcastle and heavily populated surrounding areas. South Shields popularity for holidays was its large expanse of sandy beaches and its pleasant town atmosphere then in the 1950s.

First Draft: South Shields. Course Work

The syllabus was split into 3 main areas:

1. The Basic Principles of Electricity and Magnetism. Theory and Practise.

We were taught the Atomic theory... electrons, nuclei, protons, ions etc.
Basic electricity... volts, ohms current, watts, joules, calories, etc. and all formulae.
Principles of magnetism and its applications. Formulae again, hysteresis loops, rules of operation, etc.

We were taught these principles all in depth up to motors, alternators including batteries, even the changing chemical action formulae from discharge though to full charge of a lead acid battery was taught.

The reason for going into everything in depth even apparently simple things was if you had a full knowledge and understanding of the basic principles you would be able to carry out equipment repairs at sea or rig alternative means if humanly possible. At sea there was no one to ask, " What do we do now" if something broke down. You were the Guru, the fountain of knowledge.

Batteries were of prime importance in the fact if the ships electricity supply failed large banks of batteries took over to power the radios and high power transmitters.

2. Radio Theory and Practise

Again we were taught in depth from A.C. theory through to radio and transmitting circuits, even taught the construction and operation of individual components. We learnt words like impedance, reactance, resonance, phase and their complex formulae. Even today in 2004 as I pen this I can still repeat these formulae at will. Draw the circuits and the graphs, the waveforms and add phase angles. These are just a few of the things we were required to commit to memory. They are all imprinted on my memory even now.

3. Operating Practise and Procedures including Morse.

Morse was just plain practise, practise and more practises. Initially we committed to memory the dot and dash combination of each single letter and digit. Then the instructor would send each letter slowly and pause and you wrote the letter down on paper. At first there would be gaps of missed letters but over the days and weeks missed letters would diminish and the speed of the instructors Morse speed would slowly increase.

Practise was usually sending and receiving text out of a book or magazine. As your speed reading of Morse increased the combined dots and dashes had an individual sound that you remembered. Then as your reading speed increased further the sound of the combined letters of small words had their own individual sound.

As well as sending and receiving text we were required to send and read code. These were 5 figure groups of letters or numbers. With groups of random letters or digits we had to be able to send and receive perfectly? every time. With plain text any errors could usually be deduced. Random letters or numbers couldn?t.

Note: I have emphasised how we were taught the theory basics in depth for a reason. Not only because we needed it at sea but how it served me in later life. As I progressed in my electronic career down through the years I found this depth of basic principles very useful in solving and understanding various aspects of my work. It gave me an edge over others in the electronic field and I often thanked this in-depth teaching for it.

First Draft: South Shields. Marine College in 1949

The Marine College was originally built in the 19th Century as a training school for Deck Officers in the Merchant Navy and it was not long into the 20th Century before the Marine College started to outgrow its building in Ocean road in the heart of South Shields and then started to moved the Marine trainee facility up to the Westoe area of South Shields.

The old building in Ocean Road then became the training facility for Marine Radio Officers a recently formed department in the Marine College.

Jock delivered me to the reception and I was shown to a room containing a few other boys and as I waited others also were shown into the room. We numbered about 20 in all. I was the only one residing at the hostel the other students, all older than I were in private accommodation with a few from the surrounding areas travelling daily. We were a very diverse crowd coming from all over the UK.

We were introduced to our tutors... all 3 of them. Mr. Moore was head of department, mid-50s, and dark haired with horn-rimed glasses and smiled little. Then there was Mr Fergusson, we saw him the most, a dour Scotsman with no sense of humour and a sharp biting tongue but a most thorough tutor. The 3rd member, I forget his name now was a quiet man, the most pleasant of the three... at least to a 15 year old.

We were each issued with a hard backed workbook. When opened the left hand page was feint graph lined and the opposite page was normal lined. I found later these books were ideal for our study notes, many circuit diagrams, graphs, and masses of formulae.

We were also issued with a large thick green book with a large title The Admiralty Handbook of Wireless Telegraphy and Telephony, which was our "bible". The theory of everything we needed to know was in that handbook in great detail. The 3rd book was a thin book, a set of logarithm tables, 55 years later I still have them somewhere, I come across them now then when clearing out and each throw out I can't bear to part with them... it is a part of my past. We would be working with large numbers in our calculations like 10 to the power of 6... a million and 10 to the power of 12... a million, million were common numbers we would use in our calculations. No slide rules to be used and electronic calculators were yet to be invented in 1949. Logarithm tables are an aid to simplify the multiplication of large numbers. John Napier first published the original tables in 1612. I didn't know the tables were so old until I looked it up.

The last thing we were issued with was a pair of Ericsson headphones... I still have them; these were to be used for our interminable sessions of learning the Morse code, to a speed of initially 20 words per minute with no mistakes. We were told to identify mark them; it was common practise to leave them plugged in at the desks and lose them. I filed 6 notches on the metal headband and etched my initials on to the metal diaphragm of each ear piece. The marks are still there today. It may sound silly but I cannot part with these either.

I bought myself a good Parker fountain pen... a bottle of Quink royal blue ink but gravitating to green ink later... and some good HB pencils and ruler. I was set to do battle. No Biro's here either, these too had not been invented in 1949.

Tomorrow we would start our courses in earnest.

First Draft: South Shields. The Hostel

In 1949 I left home after Easter and travelled by bus and train from our Kidside home to South Shields. I had been supplied with travel warrants by the then Westmorland Education Department to get there and the address of the hostel.

I managed to get there in one piece and wondered on the journey how I would get on living away from home for the first time. I used to go and stay in the school holiday's with relatives and our good friends, the Proud's at their farm in Ainstable. I used to often get homesick on these holidays and I hoped I would not have a similar problem with homesickness when I arrived in South Shields. I was to be away from home for the whole 1st. term at South Shields and It was too far away to come home for weekends.

Fortunately homesickness did not happen, I was kept too busy.

The hostel was in the area of Westoe and was one of a number of old dilapidated large Victorian brick houses built around a square, green, open area. The 3-story hostel stood in its own grounds with accommodation for I would estimate 20 boys. We were mostly all new to the hostel and the first thing I noticed as far as I could tell they were all older than I. Only one other boy turned out to be 15 like myself. Most were at least 16 with a few 17 year olds. Another thing I learnt was that everyone with one exception was there to do pre-sea training as cadet Deck Officers also known as Apprentices. The only other trainee Radio Officer was a Scotsman from Berwick and he had been at the college for some time. He told me that the Radio Officer?s course was a minor department and the vast majority of the trainee's were for cadet Deck Officers. I was assigned to a bedroom with 3 others, one being the Scotsman.

Next morning we were wakened early by the sound of a clanging bell and a head came round the door shouting, "Wakey, wakey rise and shine, shake a leg". It was the hostel manager and it was 6.30 a.m. I was soon to get used to this regular morning procedure. Jock just across from me said "quick, get to the bathrooms, its a long wait if you don't". I found out later the last ones downstairs got the breakfast scrap ends. Weetabix left only and the sugar all gone. After cereal came a hot breakfast at the kitchen hatch usually egg, baked beans, sometimes a sausage and something that seemed to resemble bacon. My first introduction to tinned bacon... more about that later... all swimming in large shallow pans of hot fat and dripping into pools on our plates, as the hot breakfast was ladled out. Toast and large metal teapots were on the long tables and god-awful stewed coffee from an urn. One thing there was plenty of breakfast and one soon learnt to eat heartily in the mornings, it was a long time to the evening meal.

The first morning Jock grabbed me to show me the way to the lecture halls situated half a mile away. The marine Cadets all went in a different direction to Jock and I, they went through the Cut that I came to know well and we went down to busy Ocean Road a good half mile away in the city centre.