Harold Hill Estate: An Oral History Project

[John Simkin]

Any named Hollywood actors John you'd like us to approach to play you?

Do you think George Clooney could do a Harold Hill accent?

[Andy Walpole]

Whereabouts do you live now John?

I was going to say that if you're ever in town (London, not Harold Hill) I'll meet up with you for a drink and a chat.

[John Simkin]

Whereabouts do you live now John?

I was going to say that if you're ever in town (London, not Harold Hill) I'll meet up with you for a drink and a chat.

Sussex. I let you know when I am in London. I also see my mother, aged 93, who lives in Rayleigh. You might want to do an interview with her?

[John Simkin]

I have been sent this account of life on Harold Hill in the 1950s. They have asked me not to include their name in the posting:

I was a year old when our family moved to Harold Hill and at that time it was relatively small and very raw. I do remember looking out of our bedroom window up to Dagenham Park Drive where there were no houses, only trees. Also there was a mud pathway down the side of our house, which was later turned into a road with rented garages at the bottom. One day there was a lot of banging and crashing outside of these garages and, as the men in work overalls were making such a racket everybody thought they were genuine and ignored them. It turned out they were thieves and stole all of the cars!

Much of the estate was still in a state of construction for many years. The cut through between the houses at the bottom of the road was locally known as the Cinder Track, obviously because that was the surface covering at the time. I don’t think it was ever officially named and is still known as The Cinder Track. Opposite our house was a green with three gorgeously tall trees. I used to love climbing one and sitting in the fork reading for hours, it was the only time I ever managed to get some peace from my siblings. On this green there were also playground rides (I remember a seesaw and a roundabout), which were put in long before Health & Safety was invented. I remember my young brother falling off the roundabout and being dragged underneath by his knee. All of the neighbours came running out and managed to lift off this dreadfully heavy thing and Matt bears the scars today. On the green at the bottom of the road there was an umbrella and swings, but these playground toys were closet child killers and eventually the Council had to take them away.

During the winter storms the electricity was always going out over the whole estate and I remember many a night sitting in the dark at the window watching the rain sluice down our steep road, with a mug of cocoa in one hand and a lit candle in the other. I often wondered how the folks at the bottom of the hill managed with the excess water. Our electricity was fed by shillings into an ever hungry meter in a metal cupboard by the front door. Our mum always made sure she had plenty of shillings as she couldn’t afford for the electricity to go off while she was cooking (she was always cooking!), but the neighbours weren’t so forward looking and were always knocking on our door for change. She always kept her temper and never spoke ill of them (at least not until the front door was shut).

I remember that the shops at Hilldene Avenue had not been built, so we had to do our shopping in Cambourne Avenue, grow our own food, or rely on local travelling vans. My older brother used to help Johnny the greengrocer in his van every Saturday. Johnny was Polish and I can still remember his “Huuuuuuup te hup” cry, which might have been a Polish saying but nobody was really sure. In Cambourne Avenue there was a fish and chip shop that used to use lard for frying and regularly caught alight until chip shops were forced to start cooking with oil, which spoilt a lot of fun for the local children. Opposite these shops was a chewing gum factory who had the brilliant idea of leaving piles of gum outside on the grass as a preventative measure to stop children breaking in and stealing. Mum had the cheek to actually go into the factory and ask for a bag of samples for her growing family and they were so impressed at her audacity that they gave her a full bag. My mum was a saint! She gave over half the garden to grass for us children to play on and the other half was turned over to growing vegetables. How she ever managed to grow anything is a miracle as the soil was nothing but huge chunks of clay. I can see her now trying to cut them in half with a shovel. Another travelling van was the rag and bone man (“Rag, bone, lumber” was his cry). Mum used to send me out with a pile of old clothes that would be exchanged for another green cup and saucer to replace our ever diminishing stock of china that used to be broken on a regular basis. One day when she was in china credit she let me choose a toy for myself. I chose a paper bird with wings attached to a piece of string that was tied to a stick. When whirled around it made a very pleasant whistling sound and I loved it.

Everyone on the estate was poor. At Christmas all of our toys were second hand and all of the boxes would have been repaired with sellotape, but we never minded and never mentioned it. At the weekend our hearth would be full to brimming with orange peel. Mum left it dry out overnight and used it the next day to light the fire.

Winters were something to be dreaded because of the cold. Mum would spread dad’s overcoat over our bed as extra warmth and, in the morning after we had scraped a hole in the frost on the window, we ran downstairs and put on socks that had been warmed in the oven. Once, after we had all been ill, the doctor said that we should not get out of bed and put our feet down onto a cold floor. Mum took a deep breath, went down to the decorating shop at Hilldene shops (in those days you had to ask them to cut off an inch of plain white paper at either end of the wallpaper roll) and tried not to feel humiliated as she begged them for old sample books of carpets. She dragged these home on the pushchair, dismantled them and carefully stitched them together into Josephs’s rug of many colours. I thought they looked beautiful and would probably be called retro or boho sheik nowadays. As for using the outside lavatory in the winter…. well I have tried hard not to resurrect that memory… but….We weren’t allowed to use the indoor toilet for anything other than “onesies” as mum was worried that with such a big family the lavatory would block. For anything else we had to climb down the step outside of the kitchen door (dad put a piece of railway sleeper there as it was such a high step for our little legs), trudge through the snow into this cold, dark, damp cavern where we had to use cut-up “butcher’s” paper that had been wrapped around the Sunday joint, strung on string and hung on a hook. Later very slippery San Izal toilet paper was invented, but I will always have fond memories of the Butcher’s paper. Eventually mum nagged dad into putting up an electric light bulb in the outside lavatory so that we could have fun watching the salt patches form on the walls as we sat there. In time he even built a lean-to wooden frame with corrugated plastic between the kitchen door and the outside lavatory. Such bliss – mum could put the washing machine out there and mangle the wet clothes in comparative comfort, every housewife’s dream.

The estate was serviced by the 174 bus and I always thought our family owned the bus. “Here comes our bus” mum would say and I always resented the other passengers on the bus, didn’t they know it belonged to us? There was another bus servicing the estate, the number 87 but we didn’t use this often as it went all the way to Dagenham, which was two planets away and totally foreign. I heard they had a docking station there called Dagenham Heathway, but it may have only been a rumour.

Like everybody else we had a coal fire in the living room and in the winter nappies would be festooned on lines hung from corner to corner. Because of the pollution from all of these coal fires we used to get filthy fogs come down. Our mouths had to be covered by scarves so that we didn’t breath in the toxic waste. The fogs (pea soupers) were so thick that it was impossible to see farther than a hand in front of our faces. Coming out from school we had to have one hand touching a brick wall to ensure we found our way home. Every body knew that if you let go you were a gonner, lost in the mists of time, never to be seen again (probably ending up on Dagenham Heathway!).

Eventually Hilldene Shops were built and a small Sainsbury’s opened up, where mum’s parked their prams outside six deep. If your pram was the one by the window it was a real challenge trying to get it out of the pram jam. Inside the shop the queue to the till went past the stairs down to the butchery and the smell of raw meat wafting up was truly stomach churning. Opposite Sainsbury was the Co-op where you were given tin discs in your change (known as “divvie”). These coins were taken to a window at the back of the shop and paid into your Co-op account and exchanged for groceries at Christmas time. Our divvie number was 941151. At the top of the parade was a haberdashers where school uniforms could be purchased. The assistants would put your money into a tube, pull a chain and the tube would shoot across the ceiling on a rope and pulley system to a glass windowed office where your change was counted out, along with a receipt, and the tube would shoot back across the ceiling to the assistant, who handed it to you with your package. Every Christmas there would be a group of strangely uniformed people singing nice songs by the area next to the bus stop. They clanked tin cans and talked about loving and giving and I eventually came to recognise them as “Sally Anns”.

The estate was almost a self-contained universe. There was no real reason to leave the estate as almost everything was provided for us by The Council. Which is one of the reasons why I hated it. I remember longing to see trees and greenery. To give the Council its due, they did try to plant trees, but the children kept knocking them down so the Council gave up. I remember road after road after road of houses, with very little distraction in between. Eventually a small library was built opposite Hilldene Shops and, when I was 11 years old, I remember mum begging them to let me join the adult library as I had ready every book in the children’s library. Enlightenment to the adult world of books wasn’t allowed until 14 years of age, but at 11 I was reading Ian Fleming’s “Bond” books and thought they were fantastic. The swimming pool wasn’t built until it was too late for David, Judith, me and Gillian to enjoy, but at least Mary and Matthew had the benefit. The estate was one of the biggest Council estates in the country and somehow had a way of keeping you locking in, I have school friends that live on the estate still. I hated it, I hated the way it kept you down and seemed to stifle any form of progression or enhancement, I hated the lack of greenery and the way people talked – they would slit their eyes, thin their lips and say words like “aaaahs” for “house” and “que” for “thank you”. I hated the constant barking of dogs, the dog poo that was everywhere and the metal grills on the shop windows because of breakages and thefts. Ours was the only house in the street that hadn’t been burgled and mum put that down to the fact that ours was such a big family and therefore there was always someone at home. I couldn’t wait to get my daughter off the estate and, now that I have no family living there, I hope never to have to go back.

[Andy Walpole]

You're back online - you've paid your bills I see

Thanks for above - why anonymous though?

[Andy Walpole]

Alright, so it does get a bit personal, but one persons recollection is just as valid as anybody elses.

A lot of contributions that are volunteered now are very upbeat, a typical one being:

Hi, I lived in Tring Close, Harold Hill from 1950 to 1960. I am nearly 60 now but have vivid and mostly happy memories. I was born in Lambeth London and we moved out to harold hill but visited inner London on a regular basis. When I returned to london back in the early 70s people would say I was a cockney by accent. My accent has now mellowed, but the estate from memory was probably majority east end Londoners. Good people, as was the community and the local scenary ie the woods and fields were awesome.

I have not been to Harold Hill for nearly 50 years but will revisit.

God bless Harold Hill !

Finding the negative ones is harder. I guess it's just the psychology of remembering. If you hated the place and couldn't wait to escape, you'll hardly going to want to spend time, decades later, recollecting it.

At the end of day, it was a self-contained suburban estate. Those with a bit of a spark in their character would have felt alienated by this. Certainly, if you didn't have a family or kids then there was little point, if you had a choice in the matter at least, in hanging around.

Edited December 1, 2007 by Andy Walpole

[Bill Eldridge]

First I would like to say how exellent Andy Walpole's site is at capturing the essentals of Harold Hill and that it evoked many memories for me and transported me back to those times.It reminded me of a story my sister told me years after which emphasised the gulf between some people on the Hill and those living off the estate within a couple of miles.When we came to the Hill in 1951/2 there were no local schools and she had to go to Gidea Park where a Miss Samuels was the headmistress. We were surviving from day to day and whereas the school demanded dinner money paid weekly my mother could only give it to take on a daily basis.This caused my sister a load of grief because Miss Samuels could not grasp the notion that she could not pay on a weekly basis and made my sisters life a misery.In addition my sister also attended in wellington boots one day simply because it was the only footware she had and my mother was insistant that she still attend school.This became an additional source of anxiety for my sister as the headmistress got on her case.There was also a tendency for the the girls from the Hill to be treated like second class citizens.Another girl from Harold Hill who had also had similar problems to my sister was with the headmistress while my sister was waiting to see her about the wellington boots saga.Suddenly this child shouted at Miss Samuels in sheer frustration at being unable to penitrate the head mistresses stubborn ignorance of her situation "Why don't you xxxx off back to Jeruselem".She was immediatly expelled.

Del Smith's contribution about the Albermare and the drugs situation on the Hill brought home to me how quickly that scourge had gained ground in the culture.I was unaware of this degree of change since I was a youngster 4-5 years earlier when drinking was the main pastime.I remember Del saying in about 1963 that everybody he knew was on blue bombers and I remember that I was not familiar with this behavour although grass was common enough by then locally.

Like a lot of people who grew up on the Hill from the early 50's I loved the freedom of the environment and the great people who lived there.Never felt deprived in any way and in fact felt lucky to be living there.One downside was that it was monocultured.The only professional we met was the gp and everybody was working class which gave me a socially restricted view of the greater society and I think reduced options in educational and career prospects.

[Bill Eldridge]

First I would like to say how exellent Andy Walpole's site is at capturing the essentals of Harold Hill and that it evoked many memories for me and transported me back to those times.It reminded me of a story my sister told me years after which emphasised the gulf between some people on the Hill and those living off the estate within a couple of miles.When we came to the Hill in 1951/2 there were no local schools and she had to go to Gidea Park where a Miss Samuels was the headmistress. We were surviving from day to day and whereas the school demanded dinner money paid weekly my mother could only give it to take on a daily basis.This caused my sister a load of grief because Miss Samuels could not grasp the notion that she could not pay on a weekly basis and made my sisters life a misery.In addition my sister also attended in wellington boots one day simply because it was the only footware she had and my mother was insistant that she still attend school.This became an additional source of anxiety for my sister as the headmistress got on her case.There was also a tendency for the the girls from the Hill to be treated like second class citizens.Another girl from Harold Hill who had also had similar problems to my sister was with the headmistress while my sister was waiting to see her about the wellington boots saga.Suddenly this child shouted at Miss Samuels in sheer frustration at being unable to penitrate the head mistresses stubborn ignorance of her situation "Why don't you xxxx off back to Jeruselem".She was immediatly expelled.

Del Smith's contribution about the Albermare and the drugs situation on the Hill brought home to me how quickly that scourge had gained ground in the culture.I was unaware of this degree of change since I was a youngster 4-5 years earlier when drinking was the main pastime.I remember Del saying in about 1963 that everybody he knew was on blue bombers and I remember that I was not familiar with this behavour although grass was common enough by then locally.

Like a lot of people who grew up on the Hill from the early 50's I loved the freedom of the environment and the great people who lived there.Never felt deprived in any way and in fact felt lucky to be living there.One downside was that it was monocultured.The only professional we met was the gp and everybody was working class which gave me a socially restricted view of the greater society and I think reduced options in educational and career prospects.

[Andy Walpole]

The estate was almost a self-contained universe. There was no real reason to leave the estate as almost everything was provided for us by The Council. Which is one of the reasons why I hated it. I remember longing to see trees and greenery. To give the Council its due, they did try to plant trees, but the children kept knocking them down so the Council gave up. I remember road after road after road of houses, with very little distraction in between. Eventually a small library was built opposite Hilldene Shops and, when I was 11 years old, I remember mum begging them to let me join the adult library as I had ready every book in the children’s library. Enlightenment to the adult world of books wasn’t allowed until 14 years of age, but at 11 I was reading Ian Fleming’s “Bond” books and thought they were fantastic. The swimming pool wasn’t built until it was too late for David, Judith, me and Gillian to enjoy, but at least Mary and Matthew had the benefit. The estate was one of the biggest Council estates in the country and somehow had a way of keeping you locking in, I have school friends that live on the estate still. I hated it, I hated the way it kept you down and seemed to stifle any form of progression or enhancement, I hated the lack of greenery and the way people talked – they would slit their eyes, thin their lips and say words like “aaaahs” for “house” and “que” for “thank you”. I hated the constant barking of dogs, the dog poo that was everywhere and the metal grills on the shop windows because of breakages and thefts. Ours was the only house in the street that hadn’t been burgled and mum put that down to the fact that ours was such a big family and therefore there was always someone at home. I couldn’t wait to get my daughter off the estate and, now that I have no family living there, I hope never to have to go back.[/color]

It's this last statement that makes me doubt the entire evidence.

Firstly, yes Harold Hill was created as a self-contained estate. But this never happened. All the time people were telling me that nights out, if they could afford it, were in Romford, Harold Wood, Brentwood or London.

Clearly, not 'everything' was provided by "The Council".

Trees and vandalism: Vandalism was a feature of Harold Hill in this period but as for 'give the Council its due, they did try to plant trees, but the children kept knocking them down so the Council gave up'.

I'm sure that a lot of young trees were vandalised, but as for that statement above, then why is it now that every street in Harold Hill has rows of mature trees that were planted and grew in this period? The tree planting programme at the time couldn't have been that much of a failure.

'I hated the lack of greenery'. This completely contradicts every piece of evidence that has ever been presented to me. The biggest attraction for young (and old) Harold Hill residents during this time was the abundance of greenery, trees and parks.

'They would slit their eyes, thin their lips and say words like “aaaahs” for “house” and “que” for “thank you”. '

I don't know how to respond to this. So what? People spoke in a certain way.

'Ours was the only house in the street that hadn’t been burgled and mum put that down to the fact that ours was such a big family and therefore there was always someone at home.'

My mum, who at the time was living on Chippenham Road, was the victim of a burglary during the period that this person writes about. They broke in and stole £10 – a lot of money then. But this was shockingly unusual.

I carried out an extensive interview with former PC Bert White and he stated that burglary did happen, but mostly for taking the cash out of gas meters. The author states that every house on their street other than their own was burgled. This doesn't ring true. Every house? I've never heard of this endemic crime wave before.

Edited December 1, 2007 by Andy Walpole

[Andy Walpole]

When we came to the Hill in 1951/2 there were no local schools and she had to go to Gidea Park where a Miss Samuels was the headmistress. We were surviving from day to day and whereas the school demanded dinner money paid weekly my mother could only give it to take on a daily basis.This caused my sister a load of grief because Miss Samuels could not grasp the notion that she could not pay on a weekly basis and made my sisters life a misery.In addition my sister also attended in wellington boots one day simply because it was the only footware she had and my mother was insistant that she still attend school.This became an additional source of anxiety for my sister as the headmistress got on her case.There was also a tendency for the the girls from the Hill to be treated like second class citizens.Another girl from Harold Hill who had also had similar problems to my sister was with the headmistress while my sister was waiting to see her about the wellington boots saga.Suddenly this child shouted at Miss Samuels in sheer frustration at being unable to penitrate the head mistresses stubborn ignorance of her situation "Why don't you xxxx off back to Jeruselem".She was immediatly expelled.

A family friend from Romford was a primary school pupil during this period - she states that everything that went wrong at the school was blamed on the Harold Hill kids.

[Andy Walpole]

A BNP win at a council by-election in Harold Hill. I've posted a comment about it on my site:

http://www.haroldhill.org/latest_news/latest-news.htm

[John Simkin]

"The whole by-election has a sadness about it as the local white working class bites at the teether about perceived advantages given to immigrants and Black Africans. Ever heard the one about fighting for the crumbs from the rich man's table?

But, in truth, if you introduce X amount of foreign labour into a society where competition for jobs and housing is already intense then there is going to be a backlash.

But at least the middle classes and business people, the architects of the current policy, have an endless supply of cheap nannies and workers to employ (and exploit)."

Quote from Andy's website. The forthcoming recession will only make the situation worse, although when the middle-classes start to hurt they will start putting pressure on the government.