Ron Marsh who was born in 1919 lived with his grandfather and step-grandmother from the age of 5 at no 12 South Albert Road, after his brother contracted Scarlet Fever. His grandparents were very frail and Ron had to do many jobs for them including the shopping, cleaning and feeding the pigs and many more.

I mainly did shopping for my grandfather and step-grandmother at the Co-op in Nutley Lane and occasionally at the butchers run by Mr Sturge, also in Nutley Lane. In Albert Road North was Rogers the milkman who pushed his float around the street with a couple of churns aboard. I would take a jug out to get a pint, but if I missed him I could always nip round to Albert Road North. But as I remember it, we used quite a lot of condensed milk, of which I would pinch many a spoonful.

When Granddad was taken to his bed or had no money, I was sent round to the local vicar to get what I believe was called Parish relief. I was given a signed chit for two shillings (10p today) which I took to the grocer in exchange for a supply of groceries.

I would be up early in the morning, as the fire had to be cleaned out and re-lit or laid ready. Two beds had to be made and chamber pots to be emptied as, with the toilet being out in the yard, it was necessary to keep the pots under the beds in case one was taken short during the night. The pigs had to be checked and given a bucket or two of dry feed to last them until I came home from school.

Maybe two or three times a week I had to be at the bakers in West Street by 7 o'clock to buy three pennyworth of stale cakes. We would get maybe five or six cakes depending how many were left over from the day before, then if there were no other jobs to do, I got ready for school.

Many times I would have to take a thick slice of bread and dripping to eat on the way to school, as there would be no time to sit down to breakfast. After school was also a busy time for me, more so if Granddad was not well.

Mainly the pigs took up the rest of my time as they always seemed mucky and therefore needed cleaning out and fresh straw. Then of course their food, which was a hot meal, had to be prepared. First of all the copper in the shed was lit and food mixed with water and Thorleys meal was heated. Most of their food was scraps from the dinner plates and leftovers from a few large houses in the area which I would visit a couple of times a week with a barrow. I would leave them an empty dustbin and collect their full one.

On arrival back home my gran would pick out pieces of meat and batter pudding and any other choice pieces, which would make a couple of meals for me. The pieces that I could not eat, I would put on a ledge, which ran under the table then smuggle them out to the rightful owners, the pigs.

There was wood to chop for the fire lighting, coal bucket to fill, as well as any shopping that was needed. When Granddad was unwell I would have to go up to the Nutley Hill to get him a pint of mild and a double whisky. On these and other occasions I was allowed to play with mates and, like all boys, I never knew the time and would get scolded for being late.

As I got older I was allowed out to play more and used to play in the York Road area, mainly with the lads who lived in that road. In the summer we would venture further afield and very often used to play on Reigate Heath. I remember a very large, empty house on the corner of Evesham Road and West Street, which we took over as our headquarters.

We also made box carts out of pram wheels and a wooden box, which was steered by a piece of rope or by sitting on a flat seat and steering with your feet. A brake was attached to the side of the box, which consisted of a block of wood operated by a lever, much like a handbrake. These box carts were very crude, but we would race them down York Road, quite a steep gradient, over the crossroads into Beafort Road, right in the middle of the road, there being hardly any traffic in those days.

A favourite of mine was to annoy people by playing tickle the spider. This would require a safety pin with a piece of cotton and on the end, a button. We would stick the pin in the window frame with the button hanging down, then, a length of cotton attached, which we would pull from the pavement causing the button to tickle the window. When the resident came to investigate, a good sharp pull would free the pin and you would run as fast as you could.

The purse placed in a shop attached to cotton which you would pull and then run as someone bent down to pick it up, was also a good one. And of course we had our faithful steel hoops and spinning tops for amusement, apart from the usual boyish games of conkers and marbles. Scrumping apples was a seasonal pastime which, if caught doing, meant a telling off with the occasional clip round the ear from the local 'Bobby', who lived in Nutley Lane.

There was in fact never a dull moment in growing up, but as I grew older I was beginning to take notice of girls, although I was always uneasy in their company and never really knew what to say to them. There was one in particular who, I believe, I was in love with. She was a sister of one of my mates and her name was Peggy, but I'm afraid she didn't have much time for me and in due course broke my heart (the first of many).

Like all boys, I got up to mischief, but many times was found out. I remember trying to smoke my grandfather's clay pipe. It was vile and made me feel really poorly and, beside which, I felt Grandfather's strap round my backside. I was mystified for ages, wondering how on earth he found out, until I realised a candle left black soot all round the bowl of the pipe.

Another time when Granddad was taken to his bed, I accidentally set light to one of the pig sties and had to run next door to get an uncle to put it out. I had visions of roast pork, but luckily the fire was only confined to the straw and no real harm was done. Uncle kept quiet about it thank goodness, as that strap hurt.

Occasionally we had a pig slaughtered at home instead of the butcher buying it. The carcass was, I think, sold by Granddad except for a portion of it, which was kept for our own use. The slaughter man, Mr Moon, was a huge, fat man, whom I used to think looked more like the pig than the pig itself!

The pig was tied so that it was immobilised, after which Mr Moon struck it several hefty blows on the head with a long handled hammer (used to break coal or coke) until the pig was unconscious, then had its throat cut. These occasions, though not often, made me sad as I had fed the pigs from birth. Consequently I used to have a cry in the privacy of my bed.

What I enjoyed best only occurred during the summer and then only when Granddad was fit. We used to load the cart up with Bonny's Mineral Water, (all different flavours) cups and a tea urn and cakes that my gran had baked. We would then journey off to Reigate Hill by the suspension bridge, a local beauty spot. We had trestles and a table to lay out our wares for sale and did quite well on fine days.

My job on the way up the hill which, in those days, was cobbled on the left so that horses could get a better grip, was to walk behind the cart with a large block of wood to place under the wheel when the horse had a rest, which was quite often. On the way down one wheel was chained so that it couldn't turn, therefore acting as a brake. On arrival all I had to do was fetch water from a tap just across the bridge, so I had a fair amount of time to play.

Remember me mentioning Mr Sturge? Well, I don't know how old I was when he entered my life, but I must have been quite young. Whether he took pity on me or whether it was my cheeky and impish attitude, I'm not sure, but I duly presented myself at the shop on a Saturday morning.

I was given a striped apron, which would have made me a full-length coat, me being only four foot nothing, but after doubling it I somehow wrapped it round me. So I started my career as a butcher, which I pursued for many years into manhood.

I was given a basket to carry and started taking meat orders to a few local houses. I also made myself generally useful around the shop, sweeping up and washing a few trays, etc. The staff consisted of the governor Mr Sturge, his son Sid, and Harry Streeter plus Miss Wells the cashier. As time went on I worked more hours, particularly during school holidays.

For a Saturday morning I was given two shillings and sixpence (now 12p), which was a fortune to me. Although I had to give 10p to my gran, I still had enough left to go to the pictures on Saturday afternoon with a bag of peanuts and a pomegranate, with enough left to buy some sweets during the week.

Whenever I had any spare time I was off to the butchers. When we were slack in the shop, there was plenty to do round the back in the very large garage, which housed a Ford van and a Wolesley saloon car, which I thought was a beauty. Also a Norton motorbike with a box type sidecar that was used for deliveries.

As I grew older I took a bigger part in the average workings in and around the shop. I graduated to a delivery bike, this having a rack fastened to the front in which fitted a basket. I therefore could take out more orders and covered a larger area. During holidays I had deliveries every day, except Mondays which was regarded as 'scrubbing up' day, when all the maintenance around the place was done.

Meat was stored in a refrigerator room under the shop and was chilled by means of two large tanks, three quarters full of ice, which was delivered in large blocks weekly. These were then broken into smaller pieces, put into tanks through two holes in the floor and then covered with a liberal amount of coarse rock salt and the lid replaced.

Weekly these tanks were drained of surplus water by an electric pump with hose. Access to the fridge was by means of a trap door and steps. Large carcasses of meat were lowered by means of a pulley. I was taught how to make sausages, standing on a box, to feed the meat through the mincing machine. This then became one of my regular jobs.

I very often had my dinner there, bought out the garage by the daily woman who did the cooking, Mrs Sturge being dead. These dinners were huge, consisting mainly of coarse meat, usually scrag of mutton and chump ends of loin of mutton or lamb, with dumplings and a cereal (probably barley), and it was grand.

On Friday afternoons I would sometimes go with Sid in the Ford, loaded up with beef and lamb, to Nutfield and Bletchingley, to all the outlying farms and cottages selling the meat from the back of the van. Over the years Sturge had built up quite a large round. It was great fun for me. Sid was a good sort and I got on well with him, despite the difference in our age.

He enrolled me as a member of the Phoenix Boxing Club where I was taught how to defend myself. I had a few fights in matches and didn't do too bad, but never really made top grade. He was also a 'no mean' badminton player. He took me to his club, buying for me my first badminton racket. It was a game I liked, however my size was a fair old handicap.

All in all Sid taught me much about life and I am indeed grateful to him and his dad (God rest his soul) for their kindness and help to me as a youngster, not forgetting Miss Wells. I did in fact stay with Sturge the butcher after I left school, up until the new Co-op opened in Redhill next to the Post Office.

Now of course the years were rolling by and I gradually saw my granddad and step-grandma deteriorate. We received a lot of help from neighbours and people I used to speak of as an aunt or uncle. Granddad took to his bed more often now with the doctor calling quite frequently. The horse and cart had been gone now for quite a while and, alas, we no longer kept pigs.

I was visiting the local vicar more often than ever before to get parish relief, but also continued to get a lot of meals at the butchers, until one day in 1931 I was sent packing very quickly back to Mum, who at that time was living in Redhill. I found out later that Granny had died. Death of course was not mentioned in front of children in those days. Granddad went to Sidcup and lived with one of his daughters for 12 months before passing on.

Looking back on those seven years I wonder did I miss anything in life? I don't think so, I was happy - maybe I worked hard for a youngster, but in those days when things were really tough for the poor everybody mucked in with good heart. So I have no regrets and like to think I am all the better for the experience.

Allan Ide (Ron's grandfather) with his youngest child, Alan Henry outside 12 South Albert Road, Reigate, circa 1904.