The 1939 Register

Why don't you try Peter's recommended enumeration district code method (see his 20th Feb newsletter -How to view individuals by registration district PETER'S TIP) and see if that helps. I refer to using this method to find local neighbours and shopkeepers - see later posting. Just a thought anyway.

 

I have to thank Peter for providing the information (via his Newsletters of course) to take my own memory lane trip, courtesy of the 1939 Register.

Although not normally given to more than scan-reading Newsletters (as received at any rate) I was quite taken with the scope and detail contained in his 1939 Register Special Newsletter, which was a tour de force extraordinary. So much so that I noticed in his follow up Newsletter he even allowed himself a little blow of his own trumpet by citing quotes from readers who thought the same, and a well-deserved ‘blow’ if I may say so.

Back to my memory lane trip I noticed in Peter’s 20th February Newsletter his comments about FMP’s browse option and that one could browse for neighbours and shopkeepers you remember from childhood. it was something that appealed so I duly followed Peter’s advice. He mentions the enumeration district four letter code shown at the top left of the register page and how it can be used to Browse in whatever way suits.

I chose the road which I recall from my formative years which as the family were ‘bombed out’ during the war we did not move into until 1946. Despite this I have good recall of neighbours (many of whom were there in 1939) and shops at the top of the road. So here is my recall of 3 local shops and I will return to my magical mystery tour recalling neighbours at a later point.

‘Yoxalls’ (Tobacconists & Confectionery): Memories of being sent there to join a queue with my mate Pete (we would be about 11-13 and it was whilst rationing still prevailed, early 50’s). We were there to get our respective Dad/Granddad’s cigarette ration (10 English-10 Turkish). There was no bother about our ages -Mr Yoxall would know who we were and both men were registered with him and made it known we were authorised to collect their cigarettes. So when our turn came to be served we would pay over the money and receive 10 Woodbines/Park Drive and 10 Pasha (Turkish cigarettes). The Pasha were universally unwanted and you could find them discarded in every nook and cranny as Litter Bins were yet to make an appearance. We of course would take them home where Dad would break up the Turkish and place them in the dustbin (broken up I remind to prevent certain young sons from having a crafty smoke).

Immediately next door was WALSH’s -general grocers. No great memories here except being sent up the road (there was a bit of a hill) by Mom to get a ¼ lb of ham for your Dad’s tea or 4 oxo’s for a 1d., and other exciting errands of the same kind. The only real inducement was being promised a 'piece' of jam and bread when I got home (Absolute heaven considering the times!).

There was a Butchers next door in 1939 but had become a British Restaurant (a chain of communal kitchens first set up in the 40’s to help people who had been bombed out or had run out of ration coupons). I distantly recall it as a Butchers but much better as a cheap and cheerful take-away restaurant where you could buy a cooked meal or pudding for modest (fixed by law) outlays. I have no great memory of Mom using it for meals (and Dad wouldn’t have approved anyway) but recall she used to call in there with me on my way to Infant school and collect an Apple pie for my Infant School Teacher Mrs Allen. (I cannot recall whether a gift or she repaid Mom as we lived nearer the Restaurant but, either way, it stood me in good stead with teacher!)

Not bad recall from finding 3 shopkeepers’ in the 1939 Register all situated at the ‘top of our road’

 

OK, thanks Bob, I'll give it a try (later) and let you know how I get on.

 

Later. No help.

 

I am up past my eyebrows in other online pursuits , one of which is my own"magical mystery tour", and have yet to plumb the depths of 1939 register despite a number of enticing blandishments from FMP. The FMP advice pales in comparison to Peter's hints and the comments from forum members so I am sure to be better equipped when I do have time to immerse myself. So thank you everybody for sharing your journey, keep those comments coming.
Meanwhile I've just finished a MOOC about the "Empire:Controversies of British Imperialism" and I am about to start another on"Logical and Critical Thinking". Neither is part of my MMT to acronymise Mr Spiers' phrase but as he promises " I will return at a later point" as well.

 

Thank you, Peter. It's odd about that arrow. I could swear there wasn't one when I first looked. But it was definitely there later, so, as you say, they've been reassigned. Anyhow, I did look at the next page, 20, and there was nothing whatsoever that seemed to have any connection with my mother at all. We had only just come home from Egypt, where my father was in the army (and where I was born) so I don't think we had a home in England at all. She was staying with baby me and my brothers plus nanny on a friend's farm in Witham, Essex. The next page, 20, then lists mainly other farms in the vicinity, but none of the names of the people mean anything to me. They're certainly not relatives. Dad of course isn't there since he was in the army.
Did you have any ideas about Or was that what you meant about being used when someone lost their ID card?

 

That's a pity but to be fair still feeling my own way with the Register which is why I found Peter's Newsletters so helpful. No doubt he or someone else will come to the rescue.

 

Right, thank you, Peter, and thank you, Bob. So neither extra note was probably important.

 

I'm half way through a reply re Witham on our own private chat place, Britjan.

 

I duly continued my magical mystery tour by taking a walk along ‘our road’ looking up the names of neighbours found in the 1939 Register. I doubted I would recall many but to my surprise many came flooding back: Like the lady who sold toffee apples from her back kitchen window; the Sunday school teacher who also taught woodwork with his father in their shed. The ‘rogue’ family I was warned against mixing with, and others the homes of school friends or playmates. In the end I knew it was too much in inflict on the Forum, so I decided to be selective and leave the full story for my Tribal pages. Here is the redacted version, which I think an appropriate word for anything relating to the 1939 Register.

The Rolands’: They would become our next door neighbours after we moved in in 1946 and Mr Rolands had the boyhood envious job of Train Driver, as did Mr Hill directly opposite. When their shifts coincided both men would set out on their bike complete with railway accruements -lamps, flags etc. - which fascinated me as a kid. Both families produced a son who were the ‘big boys’ of our immediate neighbourhood. About 4 or 5 years older than me and my mate Pete (who lived 6 doors down the road) and another year or so older than our other playmates. They were not bullies but their ages gave them leverage to decide the rules of any game and were the final arbiters when there were disagreements. Have many happy memories of play at that time and knew both boys right up to the time they were called up for national service.

The Claytons: Our other next door neighbours and the ones with whom we most interacted. Mr Clayton played the piano as did my mother so both houses had pianos (I was later to take lessons myself). He was also a chain smoker extraordinary and what I remember about his piano was cigarette ash over the keys. Mrs Clayton made the most divine Pearl Barley stews and would shout my name over the gate (we had a low level connecting gate between our two gardens) telling me she had a bowl of stew if I was interested. (When was I not?) Looking back, I think I should have considered my mother more when I told her Mrs Clayton made the best stew in the world. Mind you I though my mother’s liver, bacon and onions was also the best ever, and this time had to mind not repeating this too often once married!

Diagonally over the road were the Breretons (we pronounced it Breetons) an Irish family with delightful daughters with whom I was quite infatuated. Perhaps it was as well that even the youngest daughter was a fair bit older, because in the mid 50’s one of the girls found herself in the ‘you know what way' and became the talk of the neighbourhood and caused Mom to bully Dad into giving me a talk about the birds and the bees, which was quite comical looking back.

Last but not least came the Shufflebottoms (yes really). They lived directly across from my Mate’s and were also a big family, again mainly of girls. One Friday evening when it was our ‘Pictures’ night Pete (2 years my senior) told me he would not be coming that evening as he was taking Ann Shufflebottom instead. I was distraught and could not believe he would abandon me for a girl!! I even complained to Mom who took me to one side and said that sort of thing happened with boys and my time would come. (I was not consoled and vowed that would be the end of her friendship (then of some 10 years standing) because he had abandoned me for a girl)

(Cutting to the chase our friendship nevertheless lasted for over 60 years until sadly he died in 2010. From time to time -at least once a year – I reminded him of his desertion on that Friday night which always set us both off in a bout of reminiscence and a groan from our respective wives who had heard it all before).

That ends my 1939 Register tour of ‘our road’ and offers but a brief glimpse of the memories it invoked. I enjoyed the experience so much I have now decided to investigate where my paternal Grandparents lived nearer town (Birmingham city centre). That was ‘old Birmingham’ full of back-to-back areas where everyone knew everyone and of course where Dad grew up.

 

Thanks, Bob. I skyped my eldest brother about my discovery that we were living on a farm in Witham, Essex at the time of the register and asked him if he remembered it. He would have been about 8 years old so should have had some kind of memory. But, no, nothing, he didn't remember it at all. However, he did remember a lot of other things, e.g. death of one of our grandmothers, "Granny Frinton", in September 1939 and being sent to boarding school, both of which were obviously far more momentous. The more he thought about it the more he remembered. He was most grateful to me for helping to bring it all back. And it was wonderful for me listening to his reminiscences. I couldn't share them as I was only a few months old at the time.

 

I can go along with that and my sister in Oz (2 years my junior) was also grateful (via Skype) for being reminded of names from the past. As we are recalling from 1946 onwards (see my posting) it levels out the playing field; she recalls the girls whilst I the boys (that's my story and I'm sticking to it). Whereas, my younger sister -8 years my junior- recalls very few names (of course we all knew our immediate neighbours although recalling different memories) she still manages to mentions names of her own generation of playmates which neither of us older siblings could recall. She was also able to tell both of us the names of the shopkeepers who replaced those in the register. If we could put our collective memories together it would bring back so much more.

 

My brother's reminiscences were also via Skype and, as so many times before, I thanked this wonderful service for helping us keep in touch at the click of a key. How different it was back in 1939!

 

Too true. My other brother also remembers booking calls back to England from Canada days in advance after he emigrated in the late 50s. But then I remember booking long-distance domestic calls here in Finland in the '60s. And they were in the same country. Still the wait was only a matter of minutes, not days, if I remember correctly.

 

My sister emigrated to Australia in 1968 and each Christmas thereafter we made our two way transatlantic call to them, usually from a family gathering on Christmas day. From 1970 we had our own phone (a party line) but I don't recall booking the call in advance but perhaps we did. All I know is it seemed to take forever to get through and the long distance operators in both countries saying 'hold the line caller whilst I put you through' and then the static through the ear piece as you waited to hear 'putting you through now'. After you were connected it seemed only seconds before you heard the ubiquitious beep to signal you had had a minute of time. That usually meant passing the handset to another until they received the beep. The cost at the end was quite alarming and I remember Dad saying I should let him know his share of the cost, but I never did. Those were the days indeed.

 

Agree here. My GF Gilbert had been transcribed as Subert, with a suggestion of Hubert as a correction