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Ted Tierney, who was born between the wars, reminisces about Dagenham, the town where he was brought up.
Times were hard for some in those years despite the Ford Motor Works. I still remember a very old lady in long black clothing and a high pointed hat wailing songs on Hedgeman's Road.
As a child I felt really afraid that she was a witch. Yet with that fear I realised that this was something terribly wrong thing for her to have to go through.
Then at home I often heard that there was a man called Dog-end-raker. It wasn't until I grew up some that I learned that this was not a proper surname but a nickname, not nice I know and it's just as well I didn't address him as such, for what do kids know at a young age? (A dog-end-raker was someone who scavenged spent cigarette ends to smoke the last dregs.)
Every Sunday St Peter's, a tiny hall (on the Goresbrook Road if I remember) would be overflowing with people. So one day my dad was chatting with the minister of another church nearby and I don't know how the conversation went, but with the minister saying, 'Yes, I may have the church, but you have the people.'
Jubilee year was another great occasion I remember, a street party with a line of tables along Lloyd Road and all the children dressed as kings and queens for a day.
One day a band was proceeding from the railway and down Broadway, and unwittingly I traipsed after them until I became entirely lost and began to cry, not knowing what to do.
However, two young Boy Scouts asked me where I lived and were good enough to lead me home. I remember my stepmother (an angel really) out waiting at the front door so glad to see my return.
I distinctly remember the two Scouts scurrying away before they could be thanked for their thoughtfulness. (I would thank them here in this epistle if I could.)
The red coloured bus (the General) route on Broadway used Hedgemans, Lloyd and Dagenham Avenue as a turnaround, as I recall.
No plastic shopping bags in those days. One day while walking up the hill to the railway station I saw this lady approaching carrying a paper bag full of spuds. Needless to say but the bag split open, with all the spuds rolling everywhere past me.
The station was a prime attraction for us kids. The hustle bustle, styles, slot machines (for sweets I might add) and the place for 'goodbyes.'
On coming to Ireland as a child, (my father was Irish) I couldn't help but notice the complete absence of red tiled roofs, not one could be seen.
A strange occurrence took place decades later when I got a chance to revisit Dagenham. When I left Dagenham in 1937 I knew that a new parish church was being built on Goresbrook Road.
So on arriving at Dagenham in 1961 I expected to find a freshly built church and the houses in Lloyd Road blackened with age somewhat.
Instead, the very reverse was the case: there was a somewhat weather stained church, while all the houses in Lloyd Road were absolutely gleaming, red tiles an' all.
So keep it up Dagenham, keep it up, with all as nice as it was. For if I'm lucky, very lucky, I might be fluttering my wings and harp over that way for another looksee, though not too soon I hope.
Edward (Ted) Tierney, 2001
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