Snow Limits ©
By Michael Casey
I’ve just watched a cartoon on the tv about The
Snowman’s parents life. We have all seen the animation The Snowman, Walking in
the Air being the music that goes with it. I had not intended watching it but I
was overruled by the wife, Harry Potter film was recorded and not watched. I’m
glad we watched the animation about Raymond Brigg’s parents Ethel and Ernest,
it was very well made and reminded me of my own parents.
My dad came to England in 1944 and spent the end of
the war fire watching and working in a steel works. Having a few beers was also
in order, one of his friends was placed on a bench in Victoria Park Smethwick
to sober up, and it was there that dad came tumbling off his bicycle, and got
shouted at in the blackout by a policeman.
So watching the Raymond Briggs animation mirrored my
dad’s life and brought back many memories. We had an air raid shelter too,
Anderson shelter to give it its full
name. Ours was full of rainwater and stunk. My brother tricked me into going
inside via a plank, and once I was on an inside on a ledge at the back he
withdrew the plank and I was forced to wade through stinking black water to
make my escape. So I have stinking memories of that air raid shelter.
In the Summer the metal of the air raid shelter heated
up and was a favourite place for cats to sun bathe and for my sister to sit and
read, this would be back in the late 1960s. Then dad decided to dig the air
raid shelter up. I remember that my brother who had trapped me inside was
tasked with digging it up. This is harder than you imagined as it had concrete
foundations a few inches thick, maybe 6 inches. Finally when the task was done
the shelter was moved to the family garden and re-bolted back together.
All these memories came back because of the cartoon I
saw a few minutes ago.We also had a garden shed made from an air raid shelter,
so when we had a new big wooded garden shed the old shed was dismantled and
placed in the other garden where our lodging house was. A bit like musical Anderson Shelters, no
bombs falling.
Then our lodger decided to put a central floor inside
his, so it became posh. I was close to the lodger he was like an extra uncle to
me, so I copied him and laid a full floor in the original dug up air raid
shelter which was now at the bottom of the family garden. I started by the
fence which formed a wall to the side of the shelter. And moved towards the
door. By pure chance this gave a camphor to the floor, I also ended covered in
filth, the blue bricks were all neatly laid as I had dug the soil up to slot
them into position. I suppose those bricks may be quite expensive now as they
are 100 plus years old now.
The cartoon tonight showed the old style bread bins, I
have ours under our kitchen sink it must be over 60 years old now. There was also
a mangle for squeezing the water out of the washing, but you have to separate
the rollers when all the washing is done or they stick like glue together. Mum
forgot once and when dad was finally able to force the rollers open, and dad
was as strong as an Ox, there was a bite left in one of the rollers.
So as you can can imagine many many memories came
flooding back tonight, even the fact that his dad was a milkman. An old school
friend whom I used to play rugby with in 1970s, because we were a grammar school,
his dad was a milkman, and Benny Hill had a number one hit with Ernie, the
Fastest Milkman in the West.
It was also mentioned about how special it was to go
to grammar school. I can tell you something about grammar schools and Inner
Cities. In my family 4 of us went to Grammar school, then 2 of my brothers went
to Oxford and Cambridge. Our neighbour 4 doors up, 2 of his went to Grammar
school, and then both went to Oxford, he was a mad labour bus driver. A third child was sent to Elocution lessons.
Further up the same road we had a PhD in mathematics.
And around the corner, the son of a nurse and a crane driver was a PhD and his
daughter is a medical Doctor. What did all of us have in common, we all went to
Mass at Saint Patrick’s and the boys were all altar servers there. So I don’t
believe your environment dictates what you are. Hard work and love dictated
what you can be.
I would love for my book The Butcher The Baker and The
Undertaker to be cartoonised or on the radio, or to be honest just for any of
you to read its 600 pages. Perhaps you have to be famous first before that
happens, it does start slowly after all and Americans especially love fast
things, like food, cars, bucks and women. However they did like Lord of the
Rings and if any of you need reminding, I am a Birmingham writer too.
https://www.amazon.com/MichaelCasey/e/B00571G0YC
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