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John Wallace
Howard House number 38
Hello Sailor's,
It was 1954 when I arrived at PSTS and was placed in Howard House and given the number 38. Under the very watchful eyes of smile a minute Bert Busby. It was a unhappy time for me and I'll try to explain how and why I became a Dr Barnardo's boy.
Like the rest of the lads there, we were born in the middle
of a bloody war. I came into the world in the April 1942. My father who
was a Royal Marine Gunner was serving aboard HMS Cairo on the Malta
Convoys. On the 12-8-1942 four months after I was born, the Cairo was
torpedoed and my father lost his life in that action. We never saw each
other. Towards the end of the war, my mother remarried. As things go, a
really bad move. My stepfather was a wicked bully. I was often beaten for
trivial things and when mum tried to intervene she in turn was also
beaten. Hospital visits were all to often and I can still recall my mum
with terrible black and blue eyes. I'd like to point out. In those days it
was not a criminal offence to lay into the wife and kids, to the police,
it was just a domestic and took no
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action.
It was after one particular beating which I have no memory of I woke up in
hospital, my mum decided enough, and when I was well grabbed a few things
and we fled. I was 8yrs. Over the next three years we lived in single
rooms, only moving when my stepfather traced us. Mum had to work. Not the
benefits like there is today. So it was impossible for mum to keep me with
her all the time. So I lived with all sorts. Some were kind, others not. I
still remember how I cried when mum had to leave me. The knot in the tummy
is true. One of the threats often made in those days was, " Behave, of
you'll go into a home " a line I'd heard many times. My 11th birthday. Mum
was going to take me to the pictures as a treat. Instead we received a
visit from the powers to be about me only attending school three months
over the last three years. Mum was in a corner and knew it. But she
insisted she selected where I went. Where PSTS came from, I've still no
idea. But it was mum's choice. The how and why a streetwise kid from
London's East End became a Barnardo's boy.
Because I was placed in PSTS and I had no say in the matter, I supposed I looked upon the staff as prison warders. The one exception was Mr Harrington. The PE instructor. Him I liked. The man I had the utmost respect for was Mr. Joyce, band master. Drums and cornet were my instruments, I enjoyed the band. Also enjoyed being a member of the gym team. The only thing that stopped me doing a runner from there was the sport. Always loved playing football, won most of my swimming races lifted the diving cup every year. Came top in my year boxing, (house comps) and was only beaten twice by the same lad Grahame "Dinger" Bell. Once at school and again in Poole Town. Both fights were split decisions. We became the best of friends and we still are. I contacted him around eight years ago and asked for a rematch. He suggested feather dusters at twelve paces. Twelve paces, he's trying to tire me out before I can reach him, dumb he ain't.
About three years ago, I along with another old PSTS boy Richard Eastwood went to a reunion at the old place. There I applied for my records. I was amazed at the amount of lies in them. My mother who was the most wonderful person ever on this or any other planet was berated, while my hateful stepfather drew Brownie Points. No words were ever spoken between Captain Felton and myself. So how could he write such long detailed reports about me ? There is only one way. He went to the same school as Harry Potter. There's plenty more, but, what the hell, that was yesterday. I left PSTS Easter 1957. Went on home leave and when it was time to return, said " sod it " I'm going to run my own life from now. So as us Cockneys put it. " I was on me bike down the old frog and toad "
From Parkstone to Irthlingborough. Later !!!!
John Wallace