Novel 7

 

Chapter 7

Bob-a-job.

In the early days of television – back in the day, as they say – but in actual fact the early fifties, there was only one channel on television, the BBC. And because there was only one channel, all kinds of programmes would be shown, so if you liked television, which Finbar did, you could learn a lot.

For instance there was a series of programmes called 'The Brain's Trust', where the intellectuals of the day, would discuss everything from philosophy, to sociology, religion, the theatre – you name it.

Some of the people featured were the novelist William Golding, the philosopher Bertrand Russell, the novelist Rebecca West and Jacob Bronowski, the Polish mathematician and philosopher, to name but a few.

There were full orchestral concerts, and as Finbar would never be without his harmonica, he would join in as he got to know some of the pieces. He loved the music of Bach but couldn't do the counterpoint as he would need two instruments for that – maybe on a piano he could do that.

He knew Bach's 'Jesu Joy of Man's Desiring' and could play the main theme then he would follow it with the counterpoint.

He became quite proficient; he didn't have to use the button on his harmonica as it didn't seem to require sharps and flats.

There was a piano in the house, which his mother played, but she wouldn't accompany the concerts, like Finbar.

As he was a bit bigger he could sit on the pillion of his dad's motor bike, and could be taken to where his pals from school lived.

One place was what they called a yard. It was a group of small terraced houses, quite common in Birmingham, in a concrete area where there would be a clothes line and a communal group of lavatories.

Neighbours would leave their front doors open which meant if they were playing music, everyone could hear it. The first day he was there, he heard the song 'High Noon' sung by Tex Ritter and then Frankie Laine blaring out from one of the houses.

A bit of a change for Finbar, as he was used to hearing Irish music, jigs and reels and Josef Locke the Irish tenor.

“What station is that?” came a voice from one of the doors.

“My records.” came the answer.

“I was trying to tune in – sounds great.”

And the music carried on.

Finbar didn't really like to be hemmed in, when playing, and some of the games the kids seemed to be playing were not for him.

It was around this time, that his parents took him to the Imperial Picture House to see the film 'High Noon' and as soon as the film started he recognised the music. It was Tex Ritter, whom he had heard singing when he played with the boys in the yard.

He sat throughout that film and never said a word, he didn't move, or turn away and his mam and dad could see that he was smitten.

When he got back home he went to the bottom of the garden, turned left, out of the gate and went towards the lavatories. To the right, and facing the lane back out to the main road, was a little tool shed, attached to the lavatories. He knew it was not in use so, over the next few day, he had put a school type desk in there, facing the back wall. Then he put various things on the desk, some pens, paper and on the back wall some wanted posters he had made from comics he had, if they featured some male faces. He used the faces in the posters and he used one of a woman, who he called 'Big Nose Kate.' He knew she had something to do with Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday.

He would often go into his little sheriff's office, sit with his feet on the desk, his cowboy hat on the back of the door, or on the back of his head, and go through the wanted posters to see which bandits, or banditos, would be in town.

The fact that none of them existed didn't deter him one little bit. The music from 'High Noon' would be in his head, and once in a while, he would shut up shop, strap his revolver to his belt and leave the office - after leaving strict instructions of what to do if he was shot-down.

At the top of the lane was a music shop, and displayed in the window was the sheet music to 'High Noon' – Do Not Forsake me oh my darling – bump buppa bump buppa bump.

One of the times when he went back in the house his mother, Carmel, told him to sit down on the sofa; he did.

Then she opened the gramophone and put a record on. Finbar's face lit up when he heard - bump buppa bump buppa bump: High Noon.

That really set him off. His mother had bought the 78rpm slate record from Barratt's shop on the main road. He knew they had it in stock as he saw it on his way to school every morning.

The house, where they lived and loved - the cottage - was two up and two down. The living room, which the front door opened to, was about sixteen feet by about ten feet; maybe a bit more – maybe a it less – but who knows?

There was a big black fire place which you could boil a kettle on when the coal fire was lit, and there was a piano, a television and a gramophone.

Finbar didn't know how to work the gramophone so had to wait for either his mammy or daddy to do it.

The kitchen was so tiny it was unbelievable how Mrs Carmel Callahan could get so much stuff in to it, and Patrick had to extend a bit around by the window to get the hoover twin tub in.

No refrigerator, in those days, so they would buy sterilized milk, which the local would call sterra, and no telephone: that was only for the rich, and nobody would have one as they would say they didn't want the bills running up.

At the back of the living room was a wall. A plain wall and behind that wall, was a mystery. It was actually the back garden of the first big house on the main road. Maybe not the teacher's, who lived in one of them, but a garden none the less, and that garden too, faced the railway embankment.

But Finbar didn't know this, and wouldn't till he climbed into it one day.

Upstairs two bedrooms, a little box room for Finbar and the bigger room for his parents. No bathroom or lavatory, and that's what they'd call it. The word toilet wasn't used till a lot later. The middle class thought that lavatory was a bit vulgar when, in fact, as it turned out socially, toilet was the crude one.

Children only heard the word toilet when they went to the dentist. As they were called in for their appointment the dental nurse would say “Finbar: do you want to go to the toilet?”

He hated the dentist and for such a gentle fair headed little fella, with no hate in him, he also hated school.

What was the use of school when he could be at home fantasising his life on the range? In fact he hated school all the time till the day he left.

His parents entered him for the eleven plus – 11+ - which was the entrance exam for a place in a grammar school. This was a better education than the secondary modern choice, but he knew he wouldn't pass. This was not because he might not be clever enough, it was that he didn't work at school.

In the mathematics paper, for instance, he noticed a certain pattern of how they set the page out for multiplication – a number on one line, then an ex (x) next to that a double figure, e.g. eleven to ninety nine.

He remembered seeing the page like that, in a lesson, but couldn't figure what came next. He could see the two sets of figures, and knew the answer, but not how to put it down on paper.

So he failed the eleven plus. Later when he went to the secondary modern boys' school, he sat the twelve plus and the thirteen plus and noticed when he returned back to school that some boys passed and would leave at the end of the term.

He sat every examination to other schools too, which were available at that time: Arts School, Commercial School, Technical School and, of course, re sits for the grammar school.

He treated them like a day off from regular school, and he thought he would just paint all day at the Art examination, but he didn't care when he found out there was also maths and English for the Art School too.

But he never stayed at school till the end for a very good reason.

All those exams would be in the future as he had only sat the first grammar school examination after he reached the age of eleven.

At that age, not only could he play Bach on the harmonica, but Vivaldi and Mozart. He didn't know the names of the pieces, but could play them quite well.

This was because of the concerts he had been watching on television.

He also listened to The Billy Cotton Band Show on the radio and Life with the Lyons.

One day he was listening to the radio and a knock came on the door.

He answered it to a boy scout in uniform who said “bob a job.”

Finbar didn't understand.

“you give me a bob, and I do a job for you”

“My mam and dad are out”

“Oh, okay” said the boy scout “shall I come back later.”

In the days a bob, was a shilling, and the scout movement would have 'bob a job week' and would do little jobs for people who would pay them one shilling. The theory was they would do little jobs like shopping or the dishes.

Some people would take advantage and have them doing heavy jobs.

His parents returned later, the boy scout went to the co-op, across the main road, for a few pounds of potatoes and Finbar asked his dad if he could join the Boy Scouts.

“Yes” said his dad, “when you are eleven.

On the top of his little office was an 'almost' flat roof and he found it easy to climb onto the top. He would wedge the door open, then use the door handle to hoosh himself to the top of the door, then use his wrists to swing him onto the roof.

The other side, the embankment, was easy. If he jumped out he landed near the bottom of the slope.

He was determined to see what was at the back of is house. What was behind that wall at the back of their living room.

Ha walked along, and is was quiet with no trains approaching, and he came to a fence – maybe about six feet high. As he got closer to it he heard a train in the distance and knew it was approaching from the right; this meant the train was coming from London, heading towards Moor Street Station. He ducked down and hid in the grass as the noisy locomotive sped passed.

Suddenly out of the dark it came, A little Black Engine, And a train, Came roaring and snorting along the main.

“I made up a poem.” he said to himself. He didn't know where it came from.

He sidled up to the fence, and it was held together with a concrete stump; he stood on the stump and could hear glasses tinkling and voices murmuring. In the garden were a few people: a man and a woman – the owners of the shoe shop on the main road, their daughter, Gillian, whom he played with once in a while and a girl of about eighteen. They had a little table, with some chairs, and were eating a meal. He did wonder about this and felt it was something he would like to do.

The way back was a little harder as he had to get over the wall to the roof at the back of his sheriff's office. Again it would take a big hoosh so he could drag himself up and on to the top. He had to be careful nobody saw him, but he was satisfied. He had seen a glimpse of the middle class at play.

The end of term school magazine was being prepared by Mister Hennessey and he gave him the poem he had written.

“Where did you get this, Finbar?”

“I made it up, sir.”

“You wrote it out” said Hennessey, “and not very neatly. All your writing is sloping back – like a girl.”

“oh, I . . . “

“One of the girls, write it out for you?”

“No sir.”

The teacher tore it up.

“No thank you” he said.

Finbar's face drop and showed his disappointment.

“Bit of Irish, was it Finbar?”

What kind of a man is this, Finbar thought: No Blacks, no Irish and no Dogs, he remembered.