How times have changed !
I was going to upload this last week but felt my reasons for doing so could be wrong. This week I wish I had uploaded it because the memories stirred are still relevant imho.
This is a factory a five minute walk from my present home and was a five minute walk from where I lived as a child too.
In 1966 the year I became 15 years old my dad died aged 49 years at home of bowel cancer August bank holiday weekend on the Saturday. I had left school the previous day on the Friday with no qualifications because it was simply a secondary modern school for girls. I started work at this factory the Tuesday following Bank Holiday Monday and the Friday after I had left school.
I was allowed a day off work for my dad’s funeral the following Thursday though.
I started a 40 hour shift and was paid £4 10 shillings and my mam had the £4 and I the ten shillings and had buy all my own clothes by saving up for them. About 2-3 weeks at most at this factory the manager of my floor came to reach over to show me how to hold the shirt I was putting in labels correctly. He had the nerve to reach inside my clothing and fondle my breast. I told him to f*ck off and keep his dirty hands to himself.
I got sacked on the spot.
No worries in those days and I was employed at another factory involving a short bus ride the following week….we weren’t so
‘ precious’ back then and made of pretty stern stuff possibly.
I still remember my wonderful dad who had taken me to see my cousin Barry who had a dark room and dad promised to buy me an SLR camera like Barry’s…I hope he knows I got a camera in my early twenties and although didn’t do well with film I did love and still do my hobby of photography. I adored my dad and he me - and only I was allowed to administer the poor pain killers he could get from the chemist till my mums heart broken plea to our Gp made him break confidentiality and came to help my dad out of the world within a fortnight ( he was no Harold Shipman) and was heartbroken himself at having turned down my mams pleas for him to come earlier to see my dad who was suffering untold agony and just taking over the counter stuff from Boots the chemist. He was terrified of hospitals and scared he had cancer.
Every August Bank Holiday I remember it all but he would have been so proud I made it even this far…..this is a tribute to my dad
Charles Oliver Ralph Crane….the best dad in the world !
How times have changed !
I was going to upload this last week but felt my reasons for doing so could be wrong. This week I wish I had uploaded it because the memories stirred are still relevant imho.
This is a factory a five minute walk from my present home and was a five minute walk from where I lived as a child too.
In 1966 the year I became 15 years old my dad died aged 49 years at home of bowel cancer August bank holiday weekend on the Saturday. I had left school the previous day on the Friday with no qualifications because it was simply a secondary modern school for girls. I started work at this factory the Tuesday following Bank Holiday Monday and the Friday after I had left school.
I was allowed a day off work for my dad’s funeral the following Thursday though.
I started a 40 hour shift and was paid £4 10 shillings and my mam had the £4 and I the ten shillings and had buy all my own clothes by saving up for them. About 2-3 weeks at most at this factory the manager of my floor came to reach over to show me how to hold the shirt I was putting in labels correctly. He had the nerve to reach inside my clothing and fondle my breast. I told him to f*ck off and keep his dirty hands to himself.
I got sacked on the spot.
No worries in those days and I was employed at another factory involving a short bus ride the following week….we weren’t so
‘ precious’ back then and made of pretty stern stuff possibly.
I still remember my wonderful dad who had taken me to see my cousin Barry who had a dark room and dad promised to buy me an SLR camera like Barry’s…I hope he knows I got a camera in my early twenties and although didn’t do well with film I did love and still do my hobby of photography. I adored my dad and he me - and only I was allowed to administer the poor pain killers he could get from the chemist till my mums heart broken plea to our Gp made him break confidentiality and came to help my dad out of the world within a fortnight ( he was no Harold Shipman) and was heartbroken himself at having turned down my mams pleas for him to come earlier to see my dad who was suffering untold agony and just taking over the counter stuff from Boots the chemist. He was terrified of hospitals and scared he had cancer.
Every August Bank Holiday I remember it all but he would have been so proud I made it even this far…..this is a tribute to my dad
Charles Oliver Ralph Crane….the best dad in the world !