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In 1953 Joy (Joyce) Watson (nee Kent) returned to Harefield, along with her husband, Ron, whom she had married in 1950. Joy remembers: -
We arrived with 100 pieces of white china in a tea chest, which had never been opened, a 3-piece set of saucepans, plenty of bedding, etc., you name it, we took it with us, in a borrowed Harefield Hospital van. We rented 2 rooms in a house in Lower Denbigh Road, the landlady of which had an imaginary husband.
We used to cycle to and from Harefield Hospital, where we both worked as SRNs.
Unfortunately, shortly after moving, Ron had a gastric haemorrhage and was warded.
I spoke to Molly Morrison, one of the hospital cleaners living in Harefield, whose husband was a porter at the hospital. She asked if I would like to live with them temporarily, and I said I would love to. Ron would move in when discharged. Molly was really lovely. We shared all the rooms except, of course, for our bedroom.
She would cook a half shoulder of lamb (3/6d) from Sainsbury's, potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, greens, and milk pudding or sponge and custard. We went 3 ways with the costs. We ate very well in those days.
Sadly Molly got cancer and was in hospital for months. We used to visit, and do things, like her washing and put her real furs out to air, as everyone did, from after-winter wear.
I got pregnant, and Chris was born 24th April 1954, just after the Coronation. At this time there was a baby boom, so I had a bed in the corridor of the Maternity Unit at Hillingdon Hospital, Middlesex, where I had to be admitted before Chris was due. This was because of high blood pressure, swollen legs and feet, so what with all that as well as a huge abdomen, I was a mess.
Under the strain of it all, Ron was whisked in for a blood transfusion. So, there we were, Ron in Harefield hospital, and me in Hillingdon Hospital, 5 or 6 miles away.
The doctors did all sorts during the two weeks before Chris was born, in an attempt to start labour early. However, Chris was as stubborn then as he could be now, and did not arrive until the date I expected him. I had to have a general anaesthetic and an incision, and with the help of forceps, eventually Chris made his first appearance into the wide world.
All through this Ron still had not appeared since I'd left the house on my own, to come to hospital. The Gynaecologist said 'Tell me dear, where's your husband?' I said 'I don't know, I've not seen him since I left the house to come here'.
The Surgeon had discovered Ron still in hospital, and arranged a taxi for him to come and see us both. The other mums couldn't make this out, still less when our friend's elderly father-in-law collected me on discharge. Meanwhile, Mary, our friend who lived opposite, got a fire going and cleaned up for our return.
Ron had the dining table laid out as a baby changing area. It was hilarious, even more so when I think about it today.
It wasn't long after that our dear Molly died, at Harefield Hospital - a great loss to the community.
We had to move and the Medical Superintendent managed to get us an improvised flat. This was in the most wonderful, big house that had been acquired from the owners, a very wealthy London family who used it for Society matchmaking parties pre-war.
Two of the families living there had among them prostitutes, not of a good class - far from it.
One disastrous day in our new home, Ron decided to pour spirit on the boiler to get it working. What a bang, it blew open the bottom tray, causing dust to fly everywhere. You can imagine my reaction!
Ron decided to buy an Alsation dog, whom he named Patsy (Kennel Club name Wellgarth Reliance). I had to buy it raw horse meat and train it to guard Chris's pram and lay with him just inside the back door, so both were beside me.
I had a worrying time once when I had to return to Hillingdon Hospital to have an operation. I had to find someone to look after Chris as he was only a few months old, and Ron had to work at his rented workshop in Watford. I therefore left him with a friend in Hounslow.
I had my pre-med. all ready for operation, only to learn I should sleep it off and return home with some antibiotics. After the course of antibiotics I was to return to hospital. I subsequently went to collect Chris, but there was no answer, so I decided to go home. Ron soon arrived, but there was no Chris. I was beginning to get rather worried, then in minutes of my usual complaining, I heard Joy upstairs chatting away, and the gurgle of a young baby.
I flew up the adjoining stairs, and there was Chris, happily enjoying the attention of little Joy, not yet 3 years old, number five of the Phillip's family. The story goes, that my friend's Mother had collapsed and she had to arrange for Chris to be sent back and had not been able to contact me.
My second child, Anthea, was born on Jan 27th 1956, a terrible night with snow on the ground. My main reason for having a second child so soon was, if anything was to happen to Ron, due to his current poor health, Chris would always have someone else for company. Sadly, Patsy had distemper and died before Anthea was born.
We left the flat just in time for Chris's third birthday. Chris and little Joy had become very attached to each other; Chris would watch the television with Joy's arm round him.
After moving to our new house we had a sanitary inspector to see why an old empty wine cellar from pre-war ownership had slimy, wet walls and literally stunk. I'd lost a half crown (2/6d) under a very slight space of the boarding. We had no idea what was there, so I scooped up a specimen of the fluid at the bottom of the slimy steps, sealed the jar and put it outside ready for the inspector to see and smell.
He duly arrived two days later and I showed him the jam jar. I couldn't believe it, he said 'What do you want me to do about it?' I said, 'Smell it.' He almost dropped it, 'Where did you get it?' He took it away with him for analysis. Within two days we had to take ourselves out while the drainage man came with his suction pipe. Neighbours were told to shut all their windows.
There was a seep back from the main sewage, so they said, caused by a blockage from a baby's terry towel nappy.
That was the beginning of a big clear out of the six flats, with the house to be demolished. We went, two at a time spread over 18 months. This big house had a path leading to the Great Union Canal where my brother, Phil and his friend were, I think, travelling to Birmingham in the boat he had built. They were sending off carrier pigeons on route for a pigeon fancier.
Chris had had a brand new pram lined with cream, for which I had to go on a waiting list to purchase. Second-hand prams were all the rage then, as pram companies had not got back into full production since 1954, 9 years after the end of the Second World War.
We had to sell this pram, however, before Anthea was born, as we were rather hard up. We had recently furnished the flat, and struggled to keep the business going due to Ron's gastric haemorrhages.
Anthea had a brown, pink lined pram, with a well to put shopping in. It was second-hand from our friend who had a girl in 1954. She was great; an Irish, retired state enrolled nurse, who would bring me chickens, which I had to 'gut' myself. She also gave me lovely homemade soda bread. I looked after her kids while she redecorated for me. Then they came to me when she did her decorating. Born on an Irish farm, she was capable of doing all the maintenance indoors.
Eventually we both did part time night duty. I did sister relief with her two nights, 8 p.m. to 8 a.m. on Fridays and Saturdays.
Before returning to hospital in 1959, I was sitting two nights per week, earning £2 nightly, with the Bishop of St. Albans' wife, then a geriatric post-stroke. She lived with her daughter, an ex post-woman (wartime service). The Bishop had died some years before I met them.
This paid for Chris, who was so forward - reading Janet and John at three years old, and was able to read music by four years. He went to a teaching nursery school for the children of doctors, nurses and dentists. His favourite toy was a tin of stones that he had collected. He did nothing but tip them out and recount them, then he discovered if he left some out he had less in number left in the tin, hence adding and subtracting before four years old.
Chris would take charge of Anthea's bottle. He would stand on the very strong wheels of the pram, and he treasured her, always looking after her. Then once she started school, she started 'banging him about' on the bus.
In 1961 I had my third child, a daughter, whom we named Petula.
All three of them went to the Church of England School in Northwood, Middlesex up to 11 years.
We moved in November 1966 to Northwood and I had a staff nurse post and then a sister's post just up the road. Ron was not at home very much, due to duties or golf, the Golf Course being just up the road.
We were not informed to start with, that Chris had earned money singing in the choir. He would get on his little bike, stay all day at the church in spring and summer on a Saturday and watch cricket in between the weddings. He had a lovely soprano voice and would do the odd solo.
Chris left school, very disillusioned by the teaching there, which is why he played 'hooky' on the golf course.
Anthea decided to leave at 15 years old. She was interested in playing the French horn and joined a Youth Orchestra. She got married in May 1973 at 17 and had her first baby, Suzy, before she was 18 years old, followed by another two girls. Anthea left her husband in 1980, got re-married eventually, left that divorcee husband and had another daughter.
Petula got many 'O' and 'A' levels and stayed with music and dancing. I used to take the girls to dancing club - old time and modern sequence. I made all our dance dresses with a load of net underneath. We all had the same colour, oddments bought for 2/6d -- 3/6d per yard. It was on a certain day each year that we took medals, Anthea and I stopped at silver.
Sadly, Ron died in 1991. Joyce married again in 1993, but tragically she only had three happy years with Gilbert before he died. In 1998 Joyce moved to St. Asaph in Wales, where she has a beautiful flat with a fantastic view of Snowdonia and the River Ogwen.
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