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Harold Taylor tells us about his career as a plumber with different firms and how he was disillusioned, subsequently becoming a policeman. The period Harold talks about would have been after the Second World War.
Whilst I was engaged at Hills, I worked in several interesting establishments, like the Prebendal School where the young female staff endeavoured to get me into a tight corner, bearing in mind that I was usually working in bathrooms or toilets.
Another place was the Bishop's Palace, the top floor of which had been taken over as the dormitory for the Theological College, which had been turned out of their home at West Gate for the duration, by the army. I think their premises later became the amenity club for the brewery, which was next door.
I left Hills under peculiar circumstances. One day I had been working in the country. It was customary when we did this to take a packed lunch, have only half an hour for lunchtime, then knock off work half an hour early. We all set out in the morning to arrive at work at the same time that we would normally arrive at the yard.
However, on this day I finished my work a little before the usual time, but without sufficient time to start another job. When I got back to town it was about the time my fiancee, Monica, finished work, so I met her and was walking home with her, when Mr Burden, Manager of Hills, drove up in his car and asked where I was going. I told him, 'Home, I've finished.'
The following day I was sent to work at Stockbridge to assist Arthur, who had a job in hand. By this time we had no boys, as Ron Clark had been called up for National Service.
When the work I had in hand was finished, I hung around for a while, then went back to the yard. On the way I passed Mr Burden, who stopped and again asked where I was going. I told him and added that there was little point in my hanging about as there was nothing more for me to do. He replied to the effect, that if I felt like that I had better go. I took his attitude to be that I had been given the sack, so did not turn in for work that afternoon.
The following morning, which was Saturday, I went into the yard to collect my tools. As I was leaving, Mr Burden asked where I was going. I told him I was going home because there was nothing there for me to do. He told me to wait. When he re-emerged from the office he gave me the name of John Snelling in Pound Farm Road and suggested I went there. I did, and started working that morning.
My boy there was a young lad named Perrin, son of the landlord of The George and Dragon. It was his last day's work before being called up to the Marines.
Snellings was a small firm with only about 10 employees. It was a young firm, both in existence and those employed. John was apparently a master plumber, and managed the firm with his wife. I discovered I knew the sons, as they attended the same evening classes at West Loats Lane School in Bersted. We were not in the same classes though; I was taking carpentry and joinery, as the building and construction class I had started with at Chichester had collapsed for want of enough pupils.
The son, Brian, was studying plumbing, but was about to be called up for National Service. The other son, Peter, although doing carpentry, was studying architecture. There was also a younger son, Barrie, who was still at school.
Some of the other fellows on the firm I knew as being brothers of people I went to school with. One other, Jimmy Weddle, had been in the same class as me. He was a Welsh lad, whose family had come down under the Land Settlement Scheme. He was a competent carpenter and was in the same City and Guilds class as myself.
All that terrible snowy winter of 1947 I had made the difficult journey through snowdrifts with a cycle. On a few occasions I had given way and used the Aldershot and District bus, on which I would meet other classmates from as far away as Midhurst.
About the same time that I joined Snellings, Marconi's wrote inviting me back to sea. I viewed the option and tried to suggest that if they paid for my training I would do so. They would not accept this, but guaranteed to employ me if I got a senior ticket. I therefore set in motion a plan to attend Southampton University on a three month course, starting in September.
Whilst I was with Snellings, they took on an office clerk, by the name of Morris. He had been a Japanese prisoner of war, and had had a rough time.
Later when I joined the Police and was doing my training at Sandgate, I attended a sports event at the Teachers Training College up the hill from us and found Morris there on a teaching course.
In six months I had worked off Snellings' entire backlog of work, conveniently for me to leave and take up the course I had arranged.
Perhaps I should explain why I had become disgruntled with Hill's and the Building Trade. Britain had entered into a Socialist World. I had been to Australia during the war and discovered there, that uncertificated tradesmen only received about two thirds of the pay rate of certificated people. When I had re-entered the working world after the war, there were lots of employment opportunities open to those being de-mobbed. These included trade training courses.
I applied, but when I went for the interview, was advised that with my experience, I knew more than I would be taught. I was therefore advised to go in for the Renewed Apprenticeship Scheme. The conditions for this scheme were, depending upon the length of time already spent in the trade, and the length of War Service completed, a board would decide how long one had to continue to gain a qualification certificate.
You would then seek employment at that trade, and receive full tradesman rate, the employer receiving from the Government a grant towards the wage. In my case it was decided that I would have to complete another 17 months to get my qualification. This was agreeable, and I continued working for Hill's under these circumstances.
However, after the completion of the period, I heard nothing, so approached my employer, but they could give me no further information. When I took the question up with the powers that be, it was to discover that Hills had not completed their paperwork, and had never been in receipt of the Government grant. In consequence I had not been inducted into the scheme, and no one had considered it important to tell me.
When September came I commenced my daily travelling to Southampton; a very tedious journey with its change of trains at Fratton, where I used to meet up with six other students, five of whom were on the same course.
In December, four of us who had been at sea before, were to sit the exam at the University, but were given the option to wait a while and sit the exam at the Marine Superintendents Office. The others were in favour, so I joined them and thus had an additional week's revision.
It was a mistake, however. Of the test exam papers we had used at the University, one was used in the exam which the others took, whereas when we four went for ours, a new paper was produced. I still feel I was unfortunate, because the P.M.G. Certificate board is extremely dishonest in their results. They do not tell you what marks you get; only a pass or fail, even the colleges do not know.
From University I took a temporary job at Chichester Station as porter for the Christmas period. Here I came out all right again. I knew most of the staff anyway, but the foreman was a man whose house I had worked at several times.
Around 1st March 1948 I got the result of my P.M.G. examination. The disheartening answer was 'fail', so I wrote and asked for a re-check, but there was no change. So I did no more than leave work and went directly to the police station in muck order, to apply to join the police.
After seeing Inspector Barker in his office and he asked me some questions. I subsequently found these same questions on the written paper when I sat the exam, which I passed, and there started my career with the police.
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