Memories of Brandon – Brandon Heritage 2026

Happy Birthday Community Centre!

One of the joys of volunteering at Brandon Heritage Centre is that you never know who will walk through the door next. Sometimes it is someone looking for information about…

Polish Camp

Today we had a visitor bring in two photo albums of their family from the 1940s and 50s, including time spent on the Army camp off London Road just after…

Cherry Rogers recalls the Market Hill...

The Market Hill was the meeting place for everyone. It was always a busy place. Children going to and leaving the school, market stalls and shops. Woodrow’s on the corner of London Road and the market, it was one of those shops that had the smell of paraffin and lubricating oil, wooden floors which must have been impregnated with those smells. They sold ironmongery, nuts, bolts, screws, hinges, all in drawers, polishes and lubricants, bleaches, household items such as lamps and kitchen equipment, mincers, graters and baking tins. Miss Dann’s, sweets and cigarettes. It was popular with the school children who bought packets of broken crisps, penny chews, liquorice boot laces, flying saucers, sherbet dips and ice cream. Miss Dann made lollies and put them in moulds outside on the pavement to set. Mum wouldn’t let me have them, she said Miss Dann’s cats licked them! She had two or three white long haired monster cats. I should imagine they were more fur than cat. Mrs Lambert's fish and chip shop on the corner by the 'smithy. I don’t know much about Mrs Lambert’s shop because we went to Aud Bilverstone on Thetford Road for our fish and chips, or a bit later Snushalls chipvan. I think Mrs Lambert's was popular with people who came out of the cinema, but sometimes there was a chip van on the market place for the cinema crowd. Mrs Lambert's shop became a wool shop when it closed. There have been loads of different things in that building. The school, the Headmaster’s house (Mr. Wintle and later Mr. Lay), next door a butcher shop - Jim English; it always had a pig’s head with an apple or orange in its mouth and bits of parsley scattered around it displayed in the the window. I didn’t think it was all that attractive. Arthur Marchant just across the road, corner of Bury Road and George Street. The Five Bells. Then a long piece of fence where the posters for the fair or events were stuck where you could look through the gaps and see piles of flints behind it. The bus shelter was eventually built there. The Flintknappers. Nearly everyone I know went in there for their first visit to a pub and my first visit was there, taken by Harold Lockwood who thought it was hilarious to take me home half cut, much to the wrath of Doris Ada. I must have had all of a half of bitter. The market was held there twice a week, Thursday and Saturday, and I believe it still is. I can’t remember much about the stalls from my early school days. I know Pinkey Wright was there with fruit and veg on a Thursday and Les Wright on a Saturday. Mum and Nana used to go to Les Wright and I can remember piles of oranges and nuts at Christmas time, with “Eat Me” dates and holly wreaths hanging along the top of the stall. Bananas hung on hooks and there were big heads of dirty celery with black fen earth on it. Cauliflowers with the leaves still on them. You were asked if you wanted the leaves taken off, nothing wrong with the leaves, just the same as cabbage. Late on winter afternoons hurricane lamps lit the stall.

I hate grass sandwiches!

Everything was fresh and nothing came pre-packed. There was always a big heap of mustard and cress, which was sold by the ounce, you got masses if you bought an ounce in a brown paper bag. No polythene bags in those days and carrier bags were strong brown paper. We got the cress in sandwiches with a hard boiled egg. I like it now but I didn’t like it much then. I used to say, "I hate grass sandwiches", but if I was given grass sandwiches I ate them because I wouldn’t get anything else. Ted Bond from Thetford Road in a van with fish laid out in the back. Lovely fish. In the summer Mr. Wicks, who owned the shop and post office at Tip had an ice cream kiosk, which he towed behind his car. He sold the best coffee ice cream I have ever tasted. The Market Hill was used for all gatherings, such as bands, military parades and the Remembrance Service. Everybody went to the Remembrance Service as the war was still fresh in people’s memory. Although we kids didn’t remember we knew it was important and lots of women cried at the service. I remember when there was an election. Loudspeaker vans drove through the town urging people to vote and all the parties did it, in fact loudspeaker vans were used for lots of things. I loved them and used to rush out to see what was going on. An updated version of a Town Cryer. I remember it was very busy on the Market Hill, lorries decorated with the party colours and people wearing huge rosettes, a band playing, it was all very secret as to who would receive your vote and you didn’t tell anyone. On election day, my mum and Mrs Barton were chatting outside Woodrow’s, the market side, under the cinema poster and Lynette hollered as loudly as she could “MY MUM IS A TORY!” Cor blimey she got sorted out for that! I loved the market place. Below Miss Dann's shop.

Memories of the Market Hill

Cherry Rogers recalls Towler's buses in Brandon.

When I was growing up everybody used Towler's buses. My first memory, or it could be what I have been told rather than being a memory, was being taken to Bury St. Edmunds to have my photo taken. I would have been coming up for two years old I should think, not sure. Apparently I played up for red water boots and I wore them all day apart from on the photo. They were prised off me with a lot of fuss. I waited until the bus was about to leave for Brandon and then said they hurt me so Mum had to leave me on the bus and run up to Quants to change them. I must have been a horrible child!

Half past three and half past four the last one, kew - Ada Towler

The buses went to King's Lynn and Bury. There were also loads of excursions. They went to Bury on Wednesdays and Saturdays, Lynn on Saturdays and probably Tuesdays for the market. I used to go to Bury with my friends when I was still at school and later with Colin. Ada Towler was the conductor on the Bury route and she did it for years. I am ashamed to say we asked her the times the buses returned every single time we went, because she said in a very sing song voice, “Half past three and half past four the last one, kew”. We loved to hear her say "kew", she said it when she took your money or gave you your change or when you got on or off the bus. All the Towler men drove buses and along with many others - Freddie Shinn, Derek Newell and Stan Burlingham to name a few. The office was in the front room of the house by the Methodist Chapel and Bob Smith was in the office. He was married to Madge Towler and they lived at the top of Towlers Lane. There was a parrot in the office, which shouted stuff like "Taxi Sir" and "Book tickets", it made a ringing noise like the phone and if you knocked on the door to go to book excursions it hollered "Come in". We used to go on loads of excursions. In the year before we married, when we couldn’t afford a holiday, we went on an excursion every day for a week. I couldn’t do that now, I would be shattered. We went on a day trip to Heathrow Airport, to stand on the roof and view the planes. I think the terminal was only one small building. Can you imagine that now? It’s a place to get through as soon as possible. We also went on mystery tours on a Sunday evening. Towlers was also used for the Sunday school outings. You had a savings card and paid in a few pence every week, saving all year for it. It was really looked forward to. The money was paid out the week before the outing so you had your spending money. The Methodist had two buses, one for the adults and one for the children. I had to fight to get on the one with the kids. Nana and mum used to like to know what I was doing. I loved it when I got on the kid’s bus, you had a bottle of pop and a packet of crisps and you could eat and drink them before you got to Thetford. There was always a comfort stop at Wymondham and all the kids who were travel sick before we got to Wymondham were cleaned up and returned to their mums on the adults bus. I used to ask Mum for a sandwich at Wymondham because I had eaten my Smiths crisps by that time. We used to fly about, jumping up and down, and generally keep raving, "Are we nearly there?" Oh, the excitement when someone shouted, "I CAN SEE THE SEA!" Everybody flew over to that side of the bus and climbed over each other to see. When we got there, we had a walk on the beach and a paddle. Nana and mum had a deck chair and we sat eating egg sandwiches, which crunched with bits of sand in them. They were taken in an oxo tin with a rubber band round it. Everyone had an oxo tin for taking to work etc. Nana’s sandwiches were wrapped in a clean damp linen cloth inside the tin to keep the sandwiches moist. My mum’s were in a bit of greaseproof and hurled in the tin minutes before we left. I loved my mum, she was funny. After lunch, we had a go on the snails and the Noah’s Ark, then a walk along Regent Road, bought a stick of rock, had some fish and chips and came home tired and happy. Usually having a sing song on the way home. My mum once had a whelk and chewed it all the way home! She was as daft as a brush. 'Tip outing was a mass exodus, about five buses and Colin said when he went with the Church there was once seven buses. It took ages to load all the buses and ages to drive home. Today we get there in just over an hour and we can go any time we want to. Below - Bill and Gwen Rogers with the family at Yarmouth. Brian is pushing the pushchair, Ivan beside his dad, Colin beside mum and Alan in the pushchair. No idea where Jean was. [caption id="attachment_566" align="aligncenter" width="462"]

The Rogers family at the seaside[/caption]

Towler’s buses

Cherry Rogers remembers going to the funfair My first memory of going to the fair is of me sitting in my pram, in Nana's kitchen, ready to go. My Nana looked out of the window and said, "I don’t know Doll, it’s a bit black over Will’s Mothers." I piped up, "I don’t want to go to Will's Mothers. I want to go to the fair.” For anybody who doesn’t know what that means, it means the sky is dark and it looks like rain. I don’t know if only my family said it or it was a common thing to say. I have never found out who Will was or his Mother. When I was little everyone went to the fair, it was looked forward to with great excitement and was always held on the Ram Meadow, the field behind the Ram. Not just kids went, but the whole family. We had candy floss, which stuck to your cheeks and your nose and I loved it. But I didn’t like the spit wash I got afterwards. Ugh. There was a rifle range and coconut shy, and they were a swizz. They stuck the coconuts on at an angle so they wouldn’t fall over. We did win one once and it was about a hundred years old. There was a stall with yellow ducks floating round and you had to hook them out to win a prize. I won a goldfish once. You got them to take home in a jam jar or in later years a plastic bag. There was hoopla and darts, where you had to hit playing cards. There was roll a penny and you had to land it right in the middle of the square to win and you won in pennies whatever number you landed on. You could win a toy, a coconut or a big chalky ornament of a boy standing with a dog. You could buy rock, humbugs, toffee apples, big slabs of coconut ice and nougat with hazelnuts in it. There was swinging boats and you made them work by pulling a rope with a woolly bit on the end which was red white and blue, like a bell rope. There was dodgems, with bits of metal on top which scraped across a bit of wire netting above the ride and blue sparks came off it. One of the fairground men used to ride on the back of some of the cars and move about to get traffic jams going. My favourite was the carousel, which had horses and bench seats for three or four people to sit together. The bench seats were preferred in the teenage years! The music was loud and you could hear it half way up the High Street. There was noise from generators, with a distinctive smell of smoke, petrol and trodden down grass. They had a wall of death once and a side show which said come and see the little people. You paid and looked into it and it was, short people having a tea party. How awful is that? When I was in my teens I used to go to the fair to meet boys and go on the dodgem cars with them. Later we went to the funfair at Yarmouth. Some of the rides you see today are mind blowing, I wouldn’t like them! I like to watch people come off them. I bet we still had more fun on the Ram Meadow though.

Memories of the funfair

Cherry Rogers' memory reflects back on the railway ...

For some reason the station was a favourite place to walk to. Mum and nana used to push me down there in my pram to see the trains and I in turn used to take my kids down to see the them. It was a nice walk and the pink flowering chestnut trees along the meadow opposite the Great Eastern were lovely, with horses kept in the field. They were lovely steam trains. You could sit on the platform to take the names and numbers, while watching all the parcels and livestock being loaded. There were cages with rabbits, chickens and ferrets. I didn’t like the ferrets much, I thought they were smelly. People came off the train and often collected a bike, a parcel or a suitcase from the guards van. When the guard blew the whistle, what fun it was to rush to the footbridge and stand over the top of the train to get covered in smoke and little black smuts. Not so much fun when mum saw the smuts and I brushed them. We would watch people go to the bookstall and the train fill up with water. If stood in the right place, when the pipe swung back you could wash the smuts off, followed by a smack when you got home. It was expected and probably deserved so it didn’t matter. Definitely wasn’t bad enough to stop us doing it! I can remember there was a large turntable up by Redbrick Cottages, with lots of busy sidings where they turned and loaded trains. There was a lot of activity with goods. Really long trains used to go through which were open goods trucks carrying iron, steel and timber. The covered trucks carried livestock, sheep and cows etc. The railway was used for most things. I remember the convoys of British and American troops which went through by road, but also large troop trains. Some soldiers were bound for the battle area and they all got off the train, formed ranks and marched away. Sometimes there were trucks waiting for them at the Mundford Road side in the station yard. When I went to work, Mr. Blanchflower worked in the Booking Office and Nellie Lewis was in the Goods Department. I used to have to do consignment notes for all the gates and timber leaving from Calders sidings. And for the pheasants. It was thought that a brace of pheasants would be a good Christmas present for regular customers. Whether the recipients thought the same is another matter! I did labels to tie on the necks of the pheasants. I didn’t tie them on, Geoff Southgate did. He used to purse his lips up and say "bloody kids", but he still did it! I did the consignment notes and Harold Lockwood put the pheasants in the van. Then we went over to the Goods Office to check them in. If there was an odd brace to go I was made to carry them over, but I wouldn’t do it unless they were on a long bit of string so I didn’t touch them. The very first porter I remember was Mr Bob Fowl. He was a short white haired gentleman who lived in the station cottages on Mundford Road, near to the crossing gates. Mr. Brand, the signalman, always called him 'Bob Chicken'. Mr Fowl's wife made things out of raffia covered milk bottle tops and he always carried a shopping bag made of them. She used to make Christmas chains out of old wall paper and give them to everyone. We were the proud owners of some. The signalman in the signal box, Stanley Brand, was my fiend Ivy's dad. We always called him Herbert. He used to heat a shepherd’s pie, or cheese and potato pie, or something, for Ivy, Beryl Philpot and me. Our mums took it in turn to make something and we dropped it off at the signal box on the way to work. 'Herbert' would bring it over at lunchtime. You see he had an oven and we didn’t, not until some years later. We only had a hotplate. Parcels were delivered and collected by lorry by a chubby man called Geoff who was based at Thetford. My great aunt Nell worked in the refreshment room at Wymondham Station, so I am told, and my aunt Crystal worked in the Goods Office at Thetford for years. When I was about ten I used to go on the train on Saturdays to Thetford, to go in the Goods Office to see 'Aunty Crys'. We would then go on to Norwich shopping. Her boss was a man called Sydney Raven. She also worked with a man named Dougie, but I can’t recall his surname. They always gave me a shilling to spend in Norwich. My Great Grandfather Walter Randall was a signalman at Brandon for the Great Eastern Railway. He came from Tivetshall and lived on London Road. After I married I travelled to and from Thetford on the train every day to work. Things started to decline on the railway. The Booking Office and Goods Office were closed, first at Brandon and then Thetford. The bookstall disappeared at both stations. The waiting rooms closed at Thetford, but I was always allowed to sit in the Porter's Room to wait. At the Brandon end, if the train was going to be late I sat in the signal box and waited. The train driver would wait for me in the morning if I was late and the buffet car man poured me a coffee before they got to Thetford so that I could drink it before we got to Brandon. I used to sit with the postman and chat while I waited for my train home. All the post was sent on the train and would collect a bag of mail to send off. The mail always arrived on time. We had three deliveries a day at one time - early morning, mid-day and five o’clock. When Norwich City had the cup run, 1959 I think, we decorated the office windows with green and yellow. When the trains full of fans stopped at the level crossing, we went out and shouted "Up the City!" It’s a shame it’s all gone, because it was efficient and kept the traffic off the roads. [caption id="attachment_557" align="aligncenter" width="456"]

Walter Randall[/caption]

Life with the railway

Cherry Rogers recalls antics going to church

I was christened at St. Peter’s Church. Nana was Church of England but always went to the Methodist with Grandad, so I always went to the Methodist on London Road. Watson's shop was next door, across from Towlers Lane, and Mr. and Mrs Watson lived there with their sons Roger and Tony. Mrs Taylor and Mr and Mrs Brown lived in the cottages behind the chapel and further up Mrs Lambert who had the chip shop on the market place. The Methodist minister lived at the top and on the left. Right at the top on the right-hand side was a bungalow where Miss Parrot lived with her sister. I think the sister went to live there when her husband died. I went to Chapel and to Sunday school in the afternoon. From the time I was quite small Dorothy Warren took me, she was my teacher. Mum took me to her house and when I was a bit older I walked along the Thetford Road by myself to Aunt Alice’s house, as I called Dorothy’s mum. They lived nearly opposite the chip shop. When I was older I was made to go in the morning, afternoon and dragged back to chapel in the evening. I think they wanted me out of the way in the daytime, but I used to get out of it in the morning and go with dad on the motorbike to see Uncle Ted in Sedge Fen and Uncle Jim in Lakenheath. I remember vividly being quite young but was taken to the evening service, where I fidgeted and stared at flies walking along the window pane, doing anything to not to have to listen. I loved the hymns and knew the words before I could read them properly. I used to stand up and sing like fury, even putting the organist off at times. I have never been able to sing in tune and all the rest of my family are musical. I used to like the Harvest Festival and the harvest supper, where we had a meal and all the goods were auctioned. Grandad nearly always bought the harvest loaf in the shape of a large wheatsheaf. It was horrible really, the bread was always stale and as hard as hell. I liked the Christmas service where we all had a little bag and hung our collection on the tree, but not so keen on the Sunday School anniversary. They put a stage over the communion rail and us kids had to sit on it and face the congregation. I always had to do a recitation, but they wouldn’t let me sing. They did once and everybody laughed, probably thought I was a stand-up comic I think. The only good thing about the anniversary was I got a new dress ... but flipping brown sandals! My Grandad was in the choir and sat in front of me, nana and mum. He sat with Mr and Mrs Deacon, Mrs Goodman, Betty Palmer, Dorothy Warren and Miss Gladys Parrot who lived at the top of Towlers Lane. She was a very short lady and she used to bounce when she sang, she put her heart and soul into it. She wore a black hat usually but on festive occasions, like Easter Day and Christmas, she wore a red velvet gathered model. When I was about eight I always used to stand and wonder if she was wearing knickers, because my mum used to say “Red hat, no drawers!” I came to the conclusion that she must be. On several occasions my mum had a fit of laughter in chapel. She went to the spiritualist meeting once, just to test it out and when they were waiting for the spirit to move she went hysterical and got chucked out. When she opened her hymn book she had a photo of great-granny Harriet in the pages and if it opened at that page she used to laugh because Harriet was wearing a funny hat. On one occasion, I don’t know if it was the hat or the fact that the visiting preacher had a set of teeth that clanked a bit, but my mum started to splutter a bit trying to be serious. We never dare look at her or smile, because it would make her worse. She started to laugh out loud and nana’s lips twitched a bit and mum thought she would look at Mrs Hunter because she would look serious. Mrs Hunter smiled back. That did it. My Mum got so bad she laid head along the pew and laughed and snorted. My grandad turned round and said “I say, I say” which made mum worse because when he said that she always chanted “ Icey, Icey” behind him. I think most of the congregation laughed in the end. That poor preacher. After all that, can you believe that when Dorothy Warren married Charlie Wharf and left the Sunday School, I taught the little ones. I taught them to sing their hymn for the anniversary service, so they were all out of tune. Photo below - the crowning of the Rose Queen, Methodist Chapel. Left to right - John Yoman, Jane Adam, don't know the lady but think it may be Mrs Lindsey from the dairy, Lynette Barton, Joan Mills (Rose Queen), me with brown sandals, Betty Palmer (Jester), small girl Ruth Davies and far right Howard Davies (Page), Rev. Davies' son and daughter.

Going to church

Cherry Rogers remembers her school days

I remember my first day at school. I told mum I didn’t want to go and I should make a fuss, so she was dreading it. I went with a girl called Rita who was the granddaughter of Mrs Parrot who lived at the old Manor House. When it actually came to the point of going into school and leaving mum, I turned to her and said "Goodbye" and then marched in. It was mum who was the one who cried. I remember leaning on the classroom door with some other children to stop Rita from escaping, she wanted to go home. When Mum came to meet me at the end of the day, I said, “Oh well. I have done my bit!”, thinking I only had to do one day. I think my first teacher was Miss Parr, who lodged in a house on Thetford Road, right next to Monkey’s Style. She rode a motorbike. I was always sent in with the nursery children on a Friday when we had a story. I hated a story where things all went wrong for people or animals were hurt. I never waited for the happy ending. I used to bawl and get so upset that the teacher sent me off before she even started. I am a bit the same today, I don’t bawl, but I walk out of the room or skip the sad bit in a book sometimes. I don’t just like a happy ending I like a happy middle and beginning as well. I remember Miss Pollard was Headmistress in the infant’s school and Miss Risdale had taught there for years. The first teacher in what was called big school was Miss Huke. She frightened the life out of me. I remember having to knit a doll’s bonnet with needles the diameter of telegraph poles and short with it, not easy, like knitting with bits of kindling. Boys had to do it the same as us, but I can’t remember any boy in my class who would want a doll’s bonnet! I remember cast iron stoves, the smell of wool coats drying on the fireguard, wet shoes standing underneath, chalk dust, squeaky blackboards, pens you dipped in inkwells, ink stains on clothes, blots on my work book, small bottles of milk with cardboard tops - you pushed out the hole in the middle for your straw (those milk bottle tops were used to make woolly pom poms and they were covered with raffia and joined together to make shopping bags, table mats and all kinds of things). I remember nature walks, all marching along in a crocodile with a tin to collect samples to write about when we got back to class, sometimes on a hot day we sat outside for a lesson. Sports days, I hated em, I couldn’t run to save my life. I remember chanting the tables with Miss Stevens, being caught passing a note to a boy, asking him to meet me after class, getting caught and Mr Cook reading it out. I didn’t care, I had no shame, but the boy did, he was embarrassed beyond words. Country dancing, again Miss Stevens, I always got told off for being too exuberant. Singing lessons with Miss Downy. I got in the choir by being recommended by Catherine Talbot. I had to mime because as soon as I let out a sound Miss Downy said “Someone is out of tune.” Guess who? Mr Smalden who took us for geography, he had a cane in the cupboard called 'Nothing'. If he asked what you wanted and you said "Nothing sir", you got it! I remember having to chant all the states and cities of Canada. He took us for music after Miss Downy and he had a tuning fork that, when he banged it on the desk, you had to sing the note. He went round the class and we did it in turn. I wanted to die, I dreaded it. Mr Smalden used to put his glasses round the door before he came into the room and we thought he was daft. I never realised he could see us in the reflection in his glasses. Mr Jackson was locum, he had been retired some years, so when a teacher was ill he stepped in. He always taught maths and the theme was always working out your co-op divi. He smoked like a chimney and his moustache was yellow. Sewing lessons. I was making a dress for three years, had to keep unpicking it, talk about fussy. It didn’t fit by the time I had finished! I had grown about four inches. Art classes with Mr. Cook. I couldn’t do that either, mine would have been more suitable for the Tate Modern. I went home wearing more paint than was on the paper. Mr Wintle was Headmaster and so many other teachers - Mr Lee, who was a wartime hero, Mrs Crane, Mr Tweedie, Mr Alan, Mrs Hall, Miss Dibley, Mr Hall, Mr Dannett, Miss Davies, Mr. Fish to name a few. Going to see the bridge opened with Miss Killengrey, having the ruler from Mr. Froud - expect I deserved it! We had to go to Mildenhall for the last year, picking up other pupils from Lakenheath and all the surrounding villages. Mr. Lee was there and Mrs Hall was back there as my form teacher, and I think Headteacher. She used to ride a bike with a large basket on the front and used to send me and Mary Adams to the bank with the dinner money. She put the money in a bag and put it in the basket on the front of her sit- 'up-and-beg' bike, saying, "Now, keep it in there and walk with it." We said "Yes Mrs. Hall", and walked sedately down the drive. As soon as we were round the corner we got on the bike and pelted down to Mildenhall, giving us time to look in the shops. Mr Star was Headmaster and his wife was games teacher. Mr Lee was deputy head. We had to go to Mildenhall on the bus. We were so rowdy and uncontrollable the Baptist Minister, the Rev Morris, was sent to take control on the journey to and from school. We used to sit and flick bits of pastry from our cookery lesson at his hat, some of that pastry was as hard as hell, like firing cannon balls. Mum used to ask, "What happened to your cooking today?", to which I would reply, "Dropped the tin." Someone got chucked off the bus for trying to pack a parachute in his satchel and then jump out of the bu. He had to walk home. I was rubbish at maths, although I knew my tables. The silly thing is I worked with figures from the time I started work, adding up ledgers and balancing books without even an adding machine in the early days. I wrote letters and did all kinds of office work, so I guess I must have learned something. I always hope my spelling is reasonable. It should be after having to chant the word and then the spelling. You learn quickly if you must stay until the work is correct and you have a date. They were happy carefree days. We all had an autograph book in those days. I have all the teachers from Brandon and all my classmates from my last year at Mildenhall. This one is Mr. Froud, he was always popular because he did a drawing instead of a boring signature. Below is the autograph from Mr. Froud, the book is a little tattered now but I have all the pages.

School days

The late Bob Mortimer recalls being a telegram boy in Brandon's Post Office. In 1933, aged 14, I left school and got a job at Brandon’s Post Office, along the High Street, as a Telegram Boy. I wore a uniform, which included a hat with a red button on it, which, to begin with, I found very embarrassing. I would often hide my head in a comic, pretending to read it, so that people did not recognise me when I was out and about. Although I hated that hat to begin with I did slowly get used to it. When there were no telegrams to deliver then I would be given odd jobs to carry out. I remember having to disinfect the mouthpiece of the public pay phone outside the Post Office building and make sure the pay phone box was clean and tidy. I also remember on occasion I would have to run across the High Street to a shop called Footers, where I would have to get a chocolate sweet for one of the women clerks who worked on the Post Office counter. You see back in those days Brandon had everything you ever wanted and there was no reason to go to another town for your shopping. Being a telegram delivery boy was not always easy. I remember a couple of old ladies who lived near Town Street, and they were quite scary. Every Saturday at half past five in the evening I would have to cycle along Manor Road, turning right to cycle past de Lotbiniere’s Brandon Hall and keep going until I came across a dirt track which led to Pit Cottage. This was quite hazardous in the dark winter nights. At the cottage I would knock at the front door and one of the women would open the door just enough to see me and take the telegram. Every Saturday this would be my routine, but I never knew why they had a telegram at that time, because all telegrams were sealed and I never opened them. One Christmas Eve I was given a telegram to deliver to a woman at ‘Shaker’s Lodge’ in the middle of the forest. It was the middle of winter and very dark, and of course I got lost after I delivered the telegram. Talking of Christmas Eve, when I was a kid our family would walk along the High Street late at night, at about 10 o’clock, and it was a wonderful sight. There might be bands and buskers, who would come into town from elsewhere, and we would have to walk in the gutter around them as they played outside the Post Office and International Stores, and all the shops in the High Street were lit up. My boss at the Post Office was a lovely man called Mr E.G. Noble. He and his wife did not have any children so I guess they took a shine to me and treated me like one of the family. Mr Noble took me to a Norwich City football match and they also bought me sweets and sometimes comics. The trouble is Mr Noble didn’t like me reading too many comics, because he thought I could better myself and would learn nothing from them. As he once put it, “I’ll find you something better to read,” and then produced a book on geography for me and would often set exams for me to answer questions about my reading material. From then on he would tell me off if he ever saw me reading a comic, but I had the last laugh because while he passed me and thought I was reading the geography book I had in fact tucked the Beano comic inside it and was reading that instead. The Mount family ran a business extracting lime and whiting from a pit along Thetford Road and on one particular occasion I had to deliver a telegram to their home. It was a very wet day and so I changed into my coat, which meant I had to take my belt off to do so. Upon putting my coat on, I replaced my belt and went off to the Mount’s home. I knocked at the door and Mrs Mount answered, I told her I had a telegram for her and as I felt down for the satchel that should have been attached to my belt, it was not there. I had left it back at the Post Office and the telegram was in that satchel. Although this was highly embarrassing for me Mrs Mount didn’t make any fuss and was fine that I went back to the Post Office and collected it for her. My wage at the Post Office was 10s 5d, about fifty-five pence in today’s money, and I gave mother about half of that. By the time I was 15 I could go to the pub and spend ‘tuppence on a beer and five Woodbines and a trip to the cinema would cost ‘fourpence. Just about everyone smoked in those days. For men it was deemed necessary to do so as it proved your were a real man, although for myself I never really took to it, although I for a while I did have a favourite cigarette to smoke purely because I liked the cards that you got free in the packets. When I was then working at the Thetford Post Office a postman named Harold Bowes, persuaded me to smoke a pipe and I have done so ever since. Incidentally Harold was a very good musician and played the coronet at private parties and with his friends he formed a band playing dance music. He later went to work for Tom Green in Brandon, who I believe was his father-in-law, and became the bandleader for Green’s band . They became very well known in the town at the time and Harold auditioned all the musicians to get that band up and running. This brings me on to my time at Thetford. While I was at Brandon I took, and passed, an exam in the Post Office, which meant I could change my job. I was now a Sorting Clerk, and worked at the Thetford Post Office. I was now 17 years old and knew every street in Thetford because I had to sort the mail for the residents. Generally speaking we were a young staff. In the late 1930’s I had some great times whilst working at the Thetford Post Office, but the Second World War put an end to that, and it was from here, in 1940, that I got called up to join the Army, joining the Essex Regiment.

Life as a telegram boy in the 1930s