A Coventry Kid's Tale

Chapter 11: 14 years old

Back at school the learning was getting harder! The child had a lot to pack into his brain for he was now turning 14. Kathleen Turner was his next bit of learning. This girl lived in Burlington Road, she also was not allowed boyfriends. Where there's a will there's a way. She told her parents that she was going to after-school classes!!!!!! But was seeing the child really. Long walks they would go on (well not too long?). The child tried to see Kathleen on Friday nights but always said "No", as she had to go elsewhere.... So one Friday night the child waited to follow Kathleen. Out of her house, down the road and then went up Nicholl's Street, she went almost to the Primrose Hill Park. Knocking on a door, she then entered. The child walked past the window and there was Kathleen playing the piano. She had been too embarrassed to say anything about playing the piano, but the child thought this was a lovely thing to be able to do and would then escort her to and fro from the piano lessons. This was also short lived as her parents found out about the child. Parents do give a lot of trouble??????

The child was now entering into his working life. A newspaper round. What a boon this was for the child, but he had to work hard for his money!!! The only newsagent he could find a job with was a tight fisted miserable old git. Seven days a week, morning and evening round but no evening round on a Sunday. All for 15/- shillings a week (75p). His mate Alan Gamble just did a morning round for the same money, but this newsagent had a long waiting list.... beggars can't be choosers. So the child went to work. Up at the crack of dawn (7am if his mum could get him out of bed), the child would go to work. Delivering papers down Lower Ford Street then Godiva Street, back up Lower Ford Street, down Alma Street, along Hood Street, up Raglan Street then Canterbury Street, Winchester Street, back along Raglan Street, up Vine Street, left along St. Peters Street and down Perkins Street and then back to the paper shop. The evening round was even longer and on Sundays the child would have to go back to the paper shop to get his second bag as there were that many extra papers to deliver. The miserable old git who the child worked for never stopped moaning; Why couldn't the child start work at 6am so everybody could take their newspaper to work with them? Why don't pigs fly? thought the child. 7am was bad enough, but 6am impossible. With an uneasy truce the child carried on delivering the papers at 7am. Looking back, in fairness to the miserable, tight-fisted old git, the child hardly ever started his paper round before 8am as he could not get out of bed, he was a night shift worker. Late nights were his forte.