Although it was not slave labour, the chores that I found that had to be done for Sister certainly made it seem like that. Our morning chores started with our bedrooms. The floor had to be clean and any mats near our beds had to be in a tidy position. There was little in our room to become untidy. As all clothes had to be put away and our beds made, the lack of any other personal items in the room meant that any polishing and cleaning we did was quite easy to complete.

Most of the flooring in the flat was linoleum; this was easy to keep polished to the standard Sister required, if we put some elbow grease into it. There was the modern electric polisher that was powered from the mains. For most of the time, we used a heavy mop type polisher. This appeared to be a device which would put us in good stead if we joined the Navy when we left the Home; Sister had this route planned for many boys who had been in her care.

Washing up and general cleaning duties were part of everyday life. Some of these were done before school, and the others were completed before we went out to play once school was over. Our Sister had designed chores to make us responsible for keeping things clean; often however some of the regular cleaning chores seemed to be designed to keep idle hands occupied. If anyone ever was foolish enough to utter the phrase that they were bored, chores could soon be found. When we were free, it was best to get out of the flat; if we ever appeared to be unoccupied, a chore could be found.

In our flat most of Saturday morning was occupied with cleaning. Only if you had made good job of your chores were you allowed to spend a short while outside before lunch was started. Looking outside, most of our friends did not seem to have these long chores first thing on a Saturday morning and were happily out at play. For chores, the four of us boys were normally given the heavier dirtier chores to do, whilst the three girls were given lighter chores of washing and ironing of clothes. I was quite happy over most of the chores that were allocated to us.

Once a week the floor area of the corridor needed to be thoroughly cleaned. This was often the final Saturday morning chore, so it was in our interests to make a good enough job that it would pass Sister’s inspection and allow us freedom outside.

During the week the hall, bedrooms, kitchen and day room floors were given a quick polish to keep them looking clean. The Saturday event was far more thorough. First came the damp mop through, followed by a dry mopping. Once everything was dry the final polish with the heavy bumper mop was made; this final part was the worst chore. On most occasions the two older boys took on this chore. To Sister if one boy had put a good effort in for a few minutes, he was allowed a short rest whilst the other took over. The easiest job was the dry mopping of the floor. The boy who was slightly older than myself claimed this as his right, and I was left with the damp mopping of the floor. This gave the biggest chance of getting told off if anything went wrong. I was quite happy with the task; once it had been done I was more or less finished with chores and might get my freedom before the others. The others disliked the damp mopping because a bucket had to be filled with water and disinfectant added. To them the stuff stank too much; it was a smell that I had become used to.

If I had wet the bed, a capful of the disinfectant had to be added to my bathwater. My sheets could then soak in the mixture during breakfast. To my surprise Sister allowed me to have a bit of fun, this was to get into the bath while the sheets were soaking and stomp them around a little. My next task would be to give them a final rinse and take them outside and hang them on the washing line, and any chores I would have done after breakfast were to be done after tea.

It was difficult to know if it was down to cost or Sister’s idea that cleanliness was next to godliness, that we were given such a powerful disinfectant to use. The thin black treacle-like substance might normally be used for the cleaning of drains, but one small capful in a bath of water or two capfuls in a bucket of water was enough to give everything it touched a very clean aroma for many hours.

Sister knew of its powers, and we were never to wear our slippers when we were mopping the floor with the disinfectant in case we spilt some over them. Like the mornings I put my sheets into soak, it was required that wellingtons be worn. Sister could embarrass me on those mornings, by not allowing me to change back into my slippers before I went in for breakfast, as I would soon be returning to the bathroom to rinse out my sheets. When I arrived at the breakfast table in wellingtons, everyone knew the reason.

The mopping of the floor with the damp mop was quite easy. There was never the need to get the floor very wet; as long as Sister could see the odd damp patch in the hall when she passed, and that there was enough of an aroma in the air she was happy.

If there had been no extra chores on a Saturday, there might have been the possibility of asking if I could have been allowed out of the grounds to visit the local cinema, but as nothing like this had ever been allowed in our flat, the request was never made.

  Sunday morning also brought major chores. For the first part of the day our normal play clothes were worn; the major chore of the day was fresh sheets on our beds. Once a month there was the ritual of turning your mattress over and re-fixing the rubber sheet to the mattress with the ties. If you worked as a pair such tasks could be completed far more quickly.

Only when all the chores were finished was it time to get ready for chapel. Hands, nails, hair and face were all items that had to pass as very clean, and with the need to make sure we were perfect, we were often ready long before it was time to leave the flat. No play was allowed at this point as we were bound to get in a mess. The worst event that could happen at this point was to get into trouble; having to sit next to Sister during the service owing to your bad behaviour was boring.

When Sister thought it was the correct time, we all set off in an orderly group walking together. A few of our friends from other flats were able to make their own way to the chapel. To Sister a major crime was to cut across the grass to and from chapel.

If our Sister was rather restrictive over our behaviour, it possibly went back to the period when she originally started at the Home; the grounds were divided by an invisible barrier. The girls were in flats on one side of the grass, the boys on the other. There were also separate play areas, the two groups did not mix. On a Sunday they were allowed to walk round the paths in controlled groups. It appeared that if there were brothers and sisters from the same family, there might be slight contact allowed at this point.

During one church service when The Governor was giving a sermon, the rather religious works gave way to a short talk on rhymes and similar light-hearted matters. We were set the task of thinking up our own rhyme; we could bet that the following week a few of us might be expected to give him our own rhyme.

Later at lunch Sister asked whether we had yet thought one up. An older boy came up with his own version or possibly one that he might have heard at school. ‘Desperate Dan the big fat man fries his knickers in a frying pan.’ This was perhaps not a rhyme to recite in front of Sister; that he chose to utter it on a Sunday and that it was meant to have some religious merit brought an instant rebuke from her. Most of us were either laughing or choking over our meal. The rest of the meal however was now conducted in silence; it appeared we could not take such things seriously.  

The day room had to be neat and tidy before we left for school. Any toys left out risked disposal. Comics and the like if they had been left out would find their way to the utility room. Unless the owner was very quick at retrieving them and putting them into their locker, it was easy to find they were placed in the sack, ready for the weekly collection for the incinerator.

With the amount of rubbish that could be generated by each flat, normally only the items that could not be burnt were put in the dustbin. Once a week the groundsman would come with a tractor and trailer and collect everything burnable from the flats. As this was normally a school day, it was impossible to see what Sister had actually decided was rubbish.

During the holidays as our building was the first to be collected from, it might be possible to be picked to help; eventually after the twenty flats were visited, the load would be taken to the orchard. A disused greenhouse that was now down simply to low brick walls was used as the incinerator, rather than any special device. As most of the rubbish was in sacks or boxes it was possible if you were quick to empty them out as you threw them onto the pile; a few useful items happened to drop at the area where the eventual fire would not reach. For a second chance, it was possible to toss any item you really wanted outside the brick walls to be collected later.

The staff decided that this area was out of bounds, but they could not supervise it all the time. Rich pickings of items that a Sister thought unsuitable could often be made; rainy days gave the best chance of making a find; a slow smouldering pile might last for several hours, giving us a chance to wait until the coast was clear. The threat of the cane from the Governor if caught, did little to stop our foraging. The cane was a minor price to pay for the chance of finding treasure.

Normally there were never any useful things to be found in the dustbins at the Home; it was worth however taking the occasional look. If a Sister had confiscated a penknife or other item, there was always a chance that it might be put in a bin rather than finding its way to the incinerator. During one of my odd searches, I found that one of the Sisters had chucked out almost the entire contents of one boy’s locker. These items might have been put in the bins, as they were due to be collected the following morning, rather than for the incinerator, which had been collected the day before.

Finding that every toy or book was smashed or torn up was a disappointment. Normally if someone was in a rage, it might be possible for a few things to be damaged, or there might be a general clear out of worn-out items. Everything seemed to have only recently been smashed; it looked as if they were smashed at the point of going into the bin rather than at an earlier time.

As the flat was at the end of the row, there were no overlooking windows; with the weather damp there were few outside to witness my exploration. My rummage through the bin showed that even to me there was nothing worth removing. I moved onto the next bin in the hope of finding something that might still be sound. This second bin was full of clothes. I took a few out in the hope that there might be something underneath. The clothes were all for a boy of around my age or slightly older. Nothing appeared to be damaged so I could not think why the Sister should chuck these out.

With my regular problem of getting into trouble over play clothes getting either soaked or dirty, I decided to take a few things. If I was ever outside and needed more protection these would come in handy, without the need for going indoors to get some more clothing. Selecting a raincoat, shorts, wellingtons and a jumper I headed off quickly before being seen. I could have taken a few more things, but I had to make it appear that I had not been through the bin. For most, there were few hiding places available for items that needed to be kept dry. I had the ideal hiding place in the flooded cellar under the Administration Block. Although it was possible for any of us to get inside, it appeared I was the only one to venture any distance into the darkness. Having hidden a torch inside that had never been found, I regarded the flooded cellar as mine. Soon these clothes were added to my other items I would not have been allowed indoors. The items might come in useful if they could keep me out of trouble.

  It was several years later before it was explained to me why the entire contents of a locker might be thrown out. Very occasionally, there was the death of a child at the Home. If there were no relatives of the child that wanted any of the possessions, normally the entire contents of the locker belonging to the child would be thrown away. This prevented any squabbling over the possessions. It was also thought of as unfair that such items were divided up.

In a similar way, the clothing was also disposed of. Although the names in a garment could be erased, it was often thought that other children would be able to recognise the items, and might be upset at having to wear the clothes of a dead child. In past years when we had all worn very similar items, once a name had been removed, the garments were sent back to the Block for later re-use, as it was thought that the origin of the garment would not be known. In later years, when we had more individually recognisable garments, it was always thought best to remove all traces of the child, to prevent other children becoming upset.

    During my time with Sister, I went with her on a few afternoons out to the common on a Saturday. These were often not with the entire group from our flat, but with another Sister and a few of her younger members. Both the Sisters were of the older Sisterhood, so the two of us from our flat could expect almost the same restrictions and required behaviour; the girl slightly younger seemed quite happy to be taken out with me. The older ones possibly thought themselves lucky either to be able to stay in the flat under the control of the helper, or outside in the grounds with total freedom. These were about the only occasions where I saw the inside of another flat, and was soon able to make friends with a boy of around my own age who was selected to go on these outings.

The layouts of the flats were similar; the boys’ bedroom was one single room of five beds. As my friend was the eldest, at least he had some extra privileges. He told me that for the last four years he had slowly made it to the eldest. Before we left to go on the outings, the pair of us were allowed a short time to play quietly with the others, whilst the two Sisters had a break with a cup of tea. I was shown round the entire flat. In a way it was surprising how both the Sisters could choose almost the same items to display on the walls and shelves. If we had exchanged flats, we could expect that our lives would have been identical. Both Sisters gave their flats the status of not where to live, had there been the chance to swap flats.

The only difference between our bedrooms was that on the wall in his flat there was a large chart with each of their names, followed by a row of stars, similar to the ones used by our schoolteachers to add to our workbooks when we had presented good work. At school, I possessed very few stars; here the chart was full mostly with green stars but there were red stars in places. Thinking that here, the Sister awarded red stars for good behaviour in the flat, I asked my friend why his name had so few of the coveted red stars, and his row was mainly green. He was embarrassed at explaining the reason for the chart, but knew that I would not tell anyone else of our age group about it. The chart was Sisters method of keeping a track of who had wet their bed. Each morning Sister handed out the stars for them to stick next to their names, green for a dry bed and red for wetting it during the night. Now that he was eight, a couple of hits with the slipper were also given on those mornings.  

I was different from the others in the flat, by having a suit as well as a blazer; the others only had blazers. Sister had originally brought back the suit from the main office. The suit was not new but there was little sign of any real use. In Sister’s mind, with our mixed sizes, there should be the possibility that it would fit one of us. The older three boys took one look at the suit and decided that it would not fit them, simply for having two pairs of short trousers rather than a single pair of long trousers, which at their age they decided were deserved.

They need not really have worried when I was given the task of trying it out for size – it was clear that it was designed for a tall thin boy. Until this moment, Sister had always complained about my odd shape, and that none of the clothes that were ever to hand ever seemed to fit me. My mother had found the same result when we shopped for my clothes; most of my shirts and trousers were taken in before they were presentable for wearing.

The suit was a light brown, with a very faint lighter brown and green cross hatch design woven into the cloth. It was easy to see that this suit had not been purchased from an ordinary store. The label neatly sewn into the jacket showed that it had been hand-made for its original owner; it came with an extra pair of trousers, this proving that it was designed to give long service. In the manufacture there seemed to be plenty of extra material to let out as its owner grew. The suit was one of the occasional items of clothing that were donated to the Home when outgrown. I was happy to have such a nice garment; the other three did not tease me over the short trousers – they were relieved that it fitted me. Had it not then Sister would have made sure one of them were the correct size for it.

Most Sunday visits to chapel I wore the suit, and on the visits home to London. Once out of the grounds of the Home, it would have been very difficult to suggest that I lived in a Children’s Home. The local shops seemed much more tolerant of me, if I was dressed in the suit, than on an ordinary Saturday when small hordes of us might descend. Once I arrived in London the suit would generally be put away until the moment it was time to return to the Home; the areas where I wanted to play were not locations where a suit or any good clothing should be worn. With the ability of my mother to let down the hems, sleeves and waistband when I eventually put on extra weight through the quantity of food at the Home, the suit still fitted and lasted for several years.  

The older ones in our flat often managed to sneak into dry places when Sister put us out in heavy rain. In a way, I preferred getting soaked outside than to being under Sister’s feet in the flat. Sister was a little tired of me returning to the flat, either soaked to the skin or half drowned, and provided me with a waterproof playsuit to go outside in. I was the only boy of my age with one; it was the younger children that were normally provided with such clothing.

When the younger children wore these play suits they were always quite loose in design; with my height it was an exact and very snug fit. The playsuit actually looked quite smart compared with our ordinary play clothes. If the trouser part ended a little short, it did not matter if I wore them inside my boots. When Sister first provided me with the playsuit, almost everyone in the flat teased me by saying I looked like one of the characters in a recent Dr Who episode. It was made of greenish dark grey cotton that was thinly coated on both sides with rubber; it was in one piece and buttoned up at the back. Once you were inside, you always needed someone to do it up. If you wanted to get out of the playsuit, it was possible if you were agile enough to undo the buttons. If you ever needed to go for a pee, getting out of the playsuit quickly prevented your pants becoming soaked. A few of the younger children hated their playsuits for this very reason.

Once outside I was quite happy to go off on my own. Often I might be the only one in the grounds, but I was quite happy. When it was time to come indoors, I was not now told off, as I had normally managed to keep dry.

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