The time came when my parents told us we were moving up to Madeley, in Shropshire. What they actually said, I don't remember; all I knew is that we were going on, what sounded like, a long holiday. I don't think it dawned on me that we were never coming back but, at the same time, I never thought we were. It seems strange, now, but not once did I feel "home sick" for Feltham, and I never have.
I can't say that I know the precise year in which we moved, but it must have been 1948, because at the end of the 1949 football season, Wolverhamption Wanderers won the FA cup. Now, I can't stand football - the plot's always the same - only the cast and the ending ever change. We know one of the two teams is going to win, we just don't know which but, as whoever wins won't make me richer, happier, healthier, or more knowledgeable, I can't be bothered to watch.
All I remember of the day we left, was walking up the High Street to the Railway Station, carrying a large mattress from out of, something like, a children's cot though, why, I don't remember.
My father was either at work, at Battersea Power Station, intending to follow later, or had gone on ahead of us, I'm not, entirely, sure, but he wasn't with us. My older sister, Iris, was carrying a suitcase, as was my mother; what my younger sister was carrying, if anything, I have no idea but I think it was a doll.
As we approached the station, coming toward us, but on the other siide of the road, was a young girl who was in my class. Because of the traffic and the width of the road, which would have meant shouting, neither of us said anything but I smiled and she smiled back; she, also, looked, unsurprisingly, surprised to see me, to see where I was, obviously, going, and, even stranger for her, what I was carrying! This was entirely understandable - it must have looked very weird! The mattress wasn't huge but I had to carry it with the length projecting out in front of me and sticking out behind. Even with the narrower width tucked up under my armpit it, only, just about, cleared the ground.
She was, obviously, on her way to school and I felt pleased because I was having a day off; little did I know what the following days would bring when I had to go to a school in a place I didn't know, and with children, who, because of their accents, I had trouble understanding. I do remember, I was very frightened that I wouldn't understand my teachers, especially if they spoke like my Uncle Bill, up in Madeley, whose accent I could never understand.
I told my mother what I was afraid of but she smiled and told me that the teachers wouldn't speak like that; I would understand, there wouldn't be a problem - I wasn't, entirely, convinced!
On the train, we, my younger sister and I, had to stand most of the way, from Feltham to Shrewsbury, but we did put the large suitcase in the corridor of the train and sat on that, when we could.
I don't remember arriving or what we did next, but I was a stranger, in a strange world, and it would take time to settle in, but, with the adaptability of children it didn't take as long as I thought. There were problems ahead, mainly, as I had suspected, with the local accents and the way of life, which was not what I was used to in London.
Anyway, to recap, I was born, in Feltham, where my family lived, which I thought was a good arrangement, and, then, at the tender age of nine, moved to Madeley, in Shropshire, taking them with me. For my adventures in this part of the Midlands, just go back, and then, click on, "Madeley, Shropshire" or, click on the link below - the decision is your's! Sometimes we have to make hard decisions in life - if this is as hard as your's ever gets, be grateful!
To Madeley - the quickest way!
