Sadly my father was killed in a tragic railway accident at Woolwich Arsenal tunnel, when his train fast through to Dartford, of which he was the driver, collided with another stationary at the station platform, and that he, my father, at the public inquest it was decided, passed through a red warning light signal in the tunnel. (Strange is it not, how many drivers are blamed, never signal failure ? as dead men cannot defend themselves possibly ?)

The railway company very graciously allowed all the family to stay in our then very small, but so humble tiny railway house. Generously many of our neighbours, both local residents and too the fellow workmates of my father, one in particularly, Mr Male, collected a sum of money and all also helped our then bereaving mother during this period of hardship in her life. My widowed mother ( bless her ) then was left to bring up and rear us all, of which she done so very well, ( I will never know how ? ) 4 daughters and 3 sons, we were though poor, happy.

I attended The Slade Green Junior and Primary School, till the age of 11 years, a small, but also very warmly taught one. Mr. Norman was the then Headmaster also a Mrs. Sharples my class teacher. What happy times when I as a "Berkshire Lad" was taught to pronounce "oy" as "I". By standing on a wooden stool in the front of the class, and repeating my five vowels. The Plantation, a small green wooded area, was a site of my mischievous play, which was opposite the school. ( those lovely crab apples! ugh ! )