Peter a few years later in school photo
Ladies below are the school cooks
David Battie, at left, is now an antiques
expert on popular TV programmes
I was 12 by the time I went to live on the Isle of Wight. The School Magazine of the Newport Grammar School, so kindly given to me by the headmaster’s daughter this year, tells me I started in the Spring of 1954. And ringing in my head is the song, Oh Mein Papa, in the Eddie Calvert and Eddie Fisher versions. I associate the song with a warm spring day, helping cut tussocks of grass at the back of Powys House, East Cowes, my new home. There was a glut of orange shield bugs, and later in the year a plague of flies, in that same garden.
So I must have been 12 and that underlines the frustration with which I spent the last days at Merrion House School, and at Granny’s in the holidays, waiting for the divorce to be finalised, impatient to start a new school, new house, new stepfather, new way of living. Anyhow I was innocent enough to be 11 or even younger. I travelled to the Isle of Wight on my own and encountered a man in the train. His hand was moving in his pocket and he looked at me. I was pretty unnerved but didn’t want to offend him. Then he tried to involve me with his life-story and endless apologies. I muttered something and moved to a compartment protected by the presence of other passengers; but on the ferry he tried to corner me again, anxious he said that I should not think ill of him. My innocence stayed intact and I was 13 before I discovered what he had been doing.
My stepfather Sep Charlton ran a lodging house rented from his employers Saunders-Roe Ltd. It was a granite four-storey slab with a circular drive at the front and a small wilderness behind. I loved the basement. It had various rooms, mostly deep in cobwebs with some astonishing junk: gas masks from the War and all kinds of components and offcuts which Blackett had taken from the aircraft factory. In the midst was his workshop with metal-working tools, vices and sheets of Perspex. He’d bought these to make models, such as a sculpture, clear like glass, of the Princess Flying Boat. He always had something on the go and later he would present my grandfather with his coat of arms incongruously in Perspex, with its motto Usque ad mortem fidus impressed on the scroll with metal-working punches. There was a lot of blue dye all over the things in the basement. I believe it was used in machining metal, as a guide to the flatness of a surface.
I soon made friends with a local boy, Peter Alwood. His father worked with Sep at the aircraft factory, and Peter was at the Newport Grammar School. Apart from my cousin Mark Clifford, he was the only good friend I had made outside boarding school. He often invited me to his house. His parents were working-class, and I envied their easy-going ways and their cosy little house. It’s like the one I’m buying today: a Victorian worker’s cottage. They had a television, which I’d heard of (from Mark, who knew about the world) but never before seen. It didn’t impress me and often displayed a sign “Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible”. I was much more impressed with Peter’s elder brother Lawrence. He had an air-gun which could fire pellets at birds (and neighbours’ cats too, if you were wicked enough). Having an elder brother meant you learned things parents never mentioned. For example, Lolly (Lawrence) had told Peter about condoms and Peter told me, referring to them as “rubber Johnnies”. To me it seemed a crude and ugly idea: I accused him of making it up. We used to wander all over town when we weren’t at his place or my big house—which impressed him greatly: he was deferential when he came. Sometimes we went to the beach. It was nothing grand, being infested with seaweed and washed-up flotsam, for the Solent is one of the busiest shipping-lanes in the world, not a lido. The beach was separated from a wooded area by the Esplanade, a broken-down concrete road almost impassable by motor-car. In a clearing were two corrugated-iron enclosures for changing in and out of bathing costumes: one for boys and one for girls. This was the scene of Peter’s revelation about the johnnies, and other tales—disturbing and exciting—of naughtiness between boys and girls. I looked at him in amazement: this chubby-faced boy with owlish glasses was more than met the eye! Yet he was no participant, just the messenger, or possibly a voyeur. I knew the technical facts of life, but had never talked about it like this.
Peter and I were good companions together with his family dog, who accompanied our mischievous jaunts. Together, they knew all the places worth going to and what trespassing we could get away with. I admired him for his street-knowledge and he admired me as a “brainbox”. My own well-trodden paths were in books—rare objects in his house.
Our friendship didn’t last long. When the school term started, Peter accompanied me on the bus and up to the school gates. From that point on, our paths diverged. I had been placed not one, but two levels above Peter. He was in a babies’ class. I could hardly acknowledge his existence. We both understood this perfectly well; as time went on we became strangers to one another.
a wayfarer’s notes 
PS I want to remind readers that these fragments of memoirs are sketches, drafts. But this one was hard to write, in the sense that I've delayed all week, trying to write other pieces which have turned out too intricate. For example one was called “Preparing to Leave” and it was linking my feelings at the end of a contract with the MaxiRam Corporation, and at moving house quite soon, with all the times I've moved on in my life. It got beyond spontaneity, so I've abandoned it.
Another was to be called “Windswept Ecstasy” designed as a companion-piece to “Sunlit Ecstasy”. It was a revisit to Great Hollands Square on a day of different weather and different mood, but that too got bogged down technically till the spontaneity was lost.
To write “Peter and Johnny” I woke up at 3.45 on Sunday morning and got it done, because I have to write something for my own sense of wellbeing.
Thank you all for being an invited audience making it possible to produce something even half-way coherent.
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I wanted to get a picture of Powys House but there is none on the Net. However it is mentioned in Wikipedia!
I also have a school photo showing Peter and me albeit five years later. I was trying to get a digital rendering but my camera's batteries instantly died. I think the Universe doesn't approve!
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Your post brings me back to recollections of a distant past filled with various friends who came and went, people who were in my life briefly with a mutual touch of life and then parted ways. It is fascinating to think of the ways in which others drift in and drift out, some of these people having a profound influence on the people we become, and yet the time being so fleeting, but not inconsequential.
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Oh Serenity, I am glad it inspires these thoughts in you. As to what is a profound influence, we may consciously have one idea and our deeper nature may have another, that takes much delving to bring to the surface!
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Vincent, much to tell about such strange men and children, from my childhood. American society in those days went one of two ways only, violently opposed to such things, or, secretly involved in such things, my experience would indicate maybe 75 for, 25% against and violently so, dangerously so, illegally so but supported by the legal system,
both are and were bad in their effects on children, but such was life.
I understand that Middle class and wealthy American Christian Men make up the largest part of the customer base for world wide child prostitution businesses, many in the 'third' world countries, but everywhere, even some actively present in this country itself.
Enough of that.
Too bad such close allies had to be split up, but again, such is life and its' seeming necessities.
See, for me, I see these things as Angelic systems designed to force humans into perverted forms so that they, the human, can serve the angelic corrupt systems, which they do end up doing too often.
I hate condoms, they are an insult to Spirit, they are angelic.
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Thanks Jim, but I still don't understand why you use “angelic” to mean “demonic”.
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Vincent, I am thoroughly enjoying dipping in and out of your blog whenever I find the time.
As a fellow 'inmate' at Maxiram, I have found these glipses into your past absolutely facinating, moving and spookily reflecting many of my own experiences.
I hope you re-visit “Preparing to Leave” soon.
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Good point Vincent, demonic is used as if there is something besides angels, humans, and Spirit, I think not, so I don't use the word, nor devils, and I really don't like the english word satan, for the meaning indicates that what that is, is angelic, simply a normal mechanical functioning system that can cause problems, but doesn't have to, it can serve a purpose that is good. All the systems, angelics, are good, none are inherently bad, it is only when the functions are not in the right relations and degrees that problems arise.
I like this, because it frees the concept of God (the best that life can be for all at once) from having made any bad. And it is simple, not humanly complicated to cover deceptions (deceptions of self or others).
Now while that sounds like God is 'but' a concept (as in human thought, earthly thought states), I know that the Creator is a Living Entity, with a voice and able thru it to control things in the Creation. You might say that God is the Creator and His Creative powers, never possibly separate or divided (as in a duality or trinity). His voice is the moving holy spirit by which all gets done, for us, none of these ever stand alone, understandably so.
I just like simplicity, but hate the complexity that the world has become thru run away systems that I don't call demonic.
Sorry to be so wordy here, long winded, but maybe that helps explain me better?
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Jim, I like your explanation but it still doesn't explain why you imply that condoms were invented by angels.
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LiveC, I'm honoured by your visit! Yes, Preparing to Leave is an important post but it may not appear before my leaving (from MaxiRam and “Babylon Town”).
I am so pleased that my recollections do spookily reflect your own because I do believe that when we go deep enough, the individual is the universal.
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Sorry Vincent, I missed the condom part, lol.
I said they are not human, but angelic, because the human is the sensual front and progressive development from the angelic, an extension from the angelic, but unlike all the many variations of the angelic. This would follow with the 'made in the image of God' thing, angels are not, humans are, they are the forefront of creation, the edge, the great frontier of God, as God is. Something like that anyway.
The condom is a device to put a hold on that development and take it out of the hands of God and His Likeness, us, and put it into the rote and systemic angelic sphere of being. Again, something like that.
Thanks for the pushing, I enjoy it.
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Vincent,
I want to remind you, and inform your readers, of the first time we met at Maxiram. Partly because I want to stimulate your spontaneity to write “Preparing to Leave”, but mainly for purely selfish reasons.
It was my first day, but a few weeks after you started. I needed to ask you about something, to help me with a problem. Like so many times in my life, my first impression of you was so very, very wrong! You came across as rude, arrogant and just a little bit harrassed. Our conversation was brief. You informed me that I had distracted you from something “very technical”! I went back to my desk to seek help elsewhere.
A few days later your assistant came round with a card for your birthday. I was shocked when I saw how old you were. (You look much younger and even more so now, with your new “trendy” but very rubbable haircut!)
I wrote in your card “So, not only are you miserable, but old too!”
We have been friends ever since. I have really enjoyed our lunches, taken outside whenever possible. (I too love to be see and feel the sky whenever possible) On a couple of occassions, we've even managed to disappear to local pubs where I introduced you to the joys of Leffe.
Time spent with you is always so enjoyable and effortless, and we always cover such a broad range of topics. Returning to the office was always such a chore.
Tomorrow the “agent” will be leaving the project.
Reading your blog has been a real pleasure. I feel priviledged and so very grateful for the invite.
Your presence at Maxiram has been like a lighthouse guiding me through stormy seas. Calm, reassuring and always there when needed.
This is also my first job after a long absence, for reasons that I may one day share with you. In short, I was escorted from my office and was so ashamed that I was never able to return – although I had done nothing illegal or immoral. In fact, I am still at a loss as to why I lost a very senior and well paid role.
But, like you, I believe things happen for good reason. I am paid less, am merely a contractor with no status or influence, yet I am so much happier. Life is about enjoying simple pleasures. You are a master at this! I still have a great thirst for knowledge and you are a great teacher.
I have often and inadvertently, called you “Dad”. A relationship I have never had in real life.
Don't you dare leave tomorrow without saying goodbye.
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PS You still appear harrassed! 🙂
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Oh thanks, EvilC (may I call you that? It is your name backwards after all, as Dog is God backwards).
I do remember that day when I was rude to you and you're right, I felt harassed, and I had worked out a simple strategy for reducing demands on my time: responding spontaneously to the manner of people's approach but respecting their inner spirit. Two senior people have never forgiven me for that.
Sadly it's too late to write “Preparing to leave” now. I woke at 3am and planned it mentally but as you noticed yesterday things are so busy that preparation is no joke.
It has been wonderful to find one friend at MaxiRam: one to keep beyond the limits of our captivities in that grim Castle. I would prefer to keep in touch than say goodbye!
I never knew about your being marched out of your previous office in such humiliation. We share a lot then. My reason for long absence from the 9-to-5 was illness, itself humiliating enough.
Enough. I'll see you later on today, evilC.
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Don't get me wrong. I will still write that piece but it won't be “preparing to leave”. It will be “Leaving” or some such: recollecting the seven months from the outside rather than the inside.
Today seems set to be the most harassing of all: so many new demands coming all at once, more requests for redesign than there have ever been, documentation not finished, leaving poor Frances to cope with picking up all the loose threads, hoping the whole delicate edifice doesn't collapse next Monday . . .
Not a time for recollections in tranquillity!
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It must be that early sexual experiences are always and necessarily confusing to some degree…
My mom was very open about this stuff – if I had a question, she'd answer it. By the time I was eleven I knew all about sperm and egg cells and how the two got together.
It was for this reason that when my younger cousin came to me with the news that his older brother had told him that when he did such and such to himself a liquid was involved, I basically told him – “Yeah, right. Look, your brother is trying to put one over on you.”
I was very convincing and spoke with great authority because I'd seen the actual photos in Life Magazine and I knew that what was involved wasn't liquid but these tiny seeds with tails, lol…
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Reading the recent comments on this post I am reminded of my last days at the Corporation.
I had worked there for 24 years. Most of my good friends had already left the corporation for a variety of reasons.
In the months prior to leaving I had been asked to layoff many friends and coworkers who had been there nearly as long as I. I had trained many people from our offices in India along with a contracting firm also from India.
While I had long before reconciled myself to leaving and found myself looking forward to it, I still had some trepidation about what I would do next.
I had accumulated a lot of vacation time. The demands of my job had forced me to postpone holidays over and over again.
I spent 3 months decompressing, enjoying time with my daughter and hiking around my beautiful neighborhood.
Refreshed and somewhat restored, I went about discovering my new career.
Today I work as a contractor, self employed. I work for small clients who I choose. My choices are based on disposition, professionalism, and effective communication.
I have discovered that these clients appreciate my skills more than any of the people I worked for at the corporation.
And since I work with people I respect, I find that I appreciate them as well.
I make considerably less money these days, but my mind and my attitude are better for it.
I may have been able to carve out a niche at the corporation where I felt appreciated. It was my choice to stay or go. However, I feel I made the right decision.
I did not receive even a phone call from any of the higher ranking staff at the corporation when I left. They were my peers, people I had seen rise through the ranks and who I had helped in many ways over the years. And yet, they did not find the time to acknowledge my departure.
It has been 4 years since I left. Those who worked for me over the years and who I have stayed in contact with, served as reference for and simply remained friends with clearly appreciate my contributions.
But those who I toiled for, sacrificed my personal time, time with my family, and to some degree my sanity, they have yet to contact me in any way good or bad.
I feel sorry for them. For someday they will realize what I have. That they are commodities of the corporation, to use as they please. To discard and forget when they are no longer of use to them.
Nudging people. Coercing better behavior. It can be done.
Vincent, you clearly have that skill. I have been told I do too. But I am not so sure.
I am not sure I always demonstrate appropriate behavior. But I do aspire to it.
Caring for one another, bringing joy to one another, is a calling I am compelled to accept.
At the same time I avoid pain in an Epicurean sense. The latter was more difficult for me to realize.
I have discovered, that if I surround myself with like minded folks, I suffer less. That is not to say that I do not want to be challenged, but the rules of engagement must be civilized.
I enjoy debate, and even on some occasions conflict. However, we must continue to respect one another during the engagement. Everyone deserves that much.
Sorry, I'm rambling now. Let me shut my gob.
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Charles, I can almost sense your feelings. You are quite right, in a large corporation, you are just a number. Soon forgotten.
Vincent and I were discussing the abuse of power over a cold beer in the countryside today.
My own demise, was partly due to my challenging those in power. Asking difficult questions and such like.
Like you, no one from my old company has contacted me.
But I have no regrets. I can now choose where I work and who for.
Unlike you, I love to work with people with different views and experiences of life. Because it is from these people that I learn the most.
Yet, I always seem to find a kindred spirt, no matter where I find myself.
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You're so right about sexual ignorance, Paul, and its many varieties. I'm not saying that it necessarily matters whilst growing up but clearly in some cases it does, and leads to various harmful manifestations. Due to my own eccentric upbringing made worse by a certain solitariness (it's not the right word but I still don't know how to describe it) I had peculiar ideas at different times. I recall one occasion as a teenager walking home drunk after a party near my grandparents'. I took it as given, as I tried to interpret the world at that moment, that only boys desired sex. Girls had to be forced or cunningly seduced (bribed for example).
What I could not admit to myself was that my looks, as photographs show clearly, were enough to scare girls away.
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Charles, I find great resonance in what you say about life in the corporation. It's been as difficult for me in the past as my early experiences with girls!
Corporations are monsters pretending to be fairy godmothers. They don't really have any soul and that is why they paint their faces with PR and mendacious slogans. Of course they are made up of individuals, who do have souls, to the extent they haven't sold them. We are like hungry animals. We need what they have to offer, but we must approach warily, defending ourselves whilst we grab at the morsels they offer. At worst, anyhow.
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LiveC – thanks for the Live Communication yesterday at MaxiRam. I so much appreciated your support on a strangely stressful last day. Of which more soon . . .
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LiveC,
I have been unclear in stating my preference to “surround myself with like-minded people”.
I was trying to describe disposition and temperament more than “like-mindedness”.
When working as a team, I find it necessary to avoid those who work against others for selfish reasons or self promotion, or are simply mean.
Many talented people from all walks of life with all kinds of experiences and ideas fit into this category.
Dealing with Phsycological warfare while trying to accomplish a goal can be unhealthy for all involved. Therefore I have made it my mission to avoid it as best I can.
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Hi there, Usque Ad Mortem Fidus is also my family motto – we should talk!
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Hi James. Yes, who knows what else we might have in common?
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[…] When I first moved to East Cowes in 1954 I found a friend, Peter Allwood. The story is written up here. […]
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