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John Lloyd

My Dad 1903-1997

My dad never talked about when he was a teenager growing up in London, which I now feel was a missed opportunity. It was not until my daughter, who must have been about 8yrs old at the time, was given a project at school to interview a grandparent about their early years. It was a real eye opener listening to the tape recording. However, when my dad died I gave the tape to my mum who must have been listening to the recording during Princess Di’s funeral, and pressed the wrong button and recorded over my dad’s memories.

Some of my memories of the recording have therefore been lost but some remain. My dad was born in 1903 in Wandsworth (South London). He had several brothers and sisters and on Saturdays he and his younger brother (Charlie) would be sent to the Borough Market with a sack which they would fill with whatever waste vegetables they could find from under the market stalls, and these would then go in the stock pot.

(Note - The Borough Market was a street market in the early 1900s selling fruit and veg)

In 1937 he married my mum, and they moved to Tooting (South London) and in 1938, while working as a painter and decorator, he responded to an advert for the Auxiliary Fire Service. When he qualified, he was based in Tooting, and he described to me that they were constantly being called to letter box fires which had been started by Mosley’s Black Shirts.  In 1939 there was a census to identify everyone’s location and trade, and my dad was recorded as being at the Trinity Road Fire Station, London. This was at the height of the London Blitz. As he had gained First Aid training when he was in the Boys Brigade, he was called upon to teach First Aid to his squad, and he also acted as the cook for the team. At some point he was given a driving licence so he could be trained to drive a fire engine, but this never happened. He retained the licence and never had to take a driving test as he already had a full licence. My mum and older sister were evacuated to Dorking, Surrey, during the war.  This was where I was born in 1945.  My dad used to visit Mum and Pat whenever he had a day off. He used to cycle all the way from South London to Dorking and back, probably a round trip of over 50 miles and was then back on fire duty the next day.

One memory I have of his blitz experience, is his description of being tied to the top of a turntable ladder so that he could aim the jet of water at a burning building. He hadn’t had a break for hours nor had he had anything to eat. The problem was that the building was a Sainsbury warehouse and all he could smell was fried bacon!!!!! 

As a result of the war, he received facial burns, and in the early 1950s he was admitted to the burns unit at East Grinstead where he spent many weeks at a time having skin grafts to give him a new nose and eyelid. This took many years to be completed.

I do remember that one time, when he returned home after a long stretch in hospital, I didn’t recognize him, and ran to my mum, saying “there is a strange man at the door.” He was operated on by Sir Archibald McIndoe who pioneered reconstruction and skin grafts on pilots who had received burns during the World War II.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My dad is centre of the front row and is looking away from the camera because of the burns to the left side of his face.

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After the War he worked in London, as a painter and decorator for the Westminster Bank, until his retirement when he moved to Downe in Kent (not far from RAF Biggin Hill).

Sometime in the early 1980s there was a village fete at which there was on display an old green goddess fire engine. Also viewing the engine was a German lady, and when my dad spoke to her it transpired she was in the fire service in Germany doing the same job in Hamburg.

Needing to check the spelling of Sir Archibald MacIndoe brought back memories of visiting my dad when he was in hospital at East Grinstead. In any war there are always people who do amazing things that are seldom heard about. The work carried out there was outstanding and innovative. His patients felt the approach was so different they called themselves Guinea Pigs, and so one of the World’s most exclusive club was formed to support and encourage one another (The Guinea Pig Club). I would encourage everyone to read the story of Sir Archibald, and the work carried out in East Grinstead.

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