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Every Sunday my mother would insist that I attend the local Sunday school with big brother Peter, big sister Patricia and little sister Jean. I would put up a modest resistance but my mother always got her way in the end and off the four of us would go while she cooked Sunday lunch.
On reflection I learned more at Sunday school than I ever did in all my years of ordinary schooling. It was not so much what was taught, but moreover how it was done and, above all, the need for courtesy, punctuality and obedience, attributes that I’d need in later life. I learned to listen and I learned to keep good time.
I would never dare be late for a class for I knew it would get back to my mother and there’d be trouble. Punctuality is a prerequisite for so many things in life and I can look back and thank my Sunday School teacher for drilling into me the notion of time-keeping. To this day I always make sure that I am punctual and you won't find me late for an appointment. I expect this of myself and I expect it of others.
I had a different attitude altogether with regard to 'normal' school and was frequently sent home for various misdemeanours. To be sent home was good because it meant that I didn’t actually have to skip school as the headmaster did that for me. It was an apparent reward for bad behaviour and I was always puzzled when my 'punishment' was to be sent home! However, the term 'sent home' was a misnomer as 'home' didn't really mean 'home' - that was the last place that I'd dare to be seen in the middle of the day. Rather it meant whiling away the hours until I dare return to The Villa under the pretence to my mother that the day had been spent learning in the classroom.
My father didn’t care if I was at school or not, the only inconvenience of my absence being the occasional visit from an exasperated teacher or a stern letter, spikily scripted in the black ink of the headmaster's angry fountain pen. However, my mother championed educational causes and she’d give me a good clip round the ear as a punishment if she found out what had gone before.
As I approached my fourteenth birthday the crosses were winning the battle against the ticks next to my name on the attendance register and I decided that I’d had enough and I left school. My teacher was happy that I was gone as he could now leave the school at the appointed time rather than sitting for an hour after the final bell to supervise my regular detentions. The arrangement suited all parties and consequently little effort was made to recapture me for inprisonment in the classroom.
Whilst I’d been wasting my time at school Peter, two years my senior, had become a horse trader, buying and selling Point-to-Pointers although he would actually be in the market for anything that had a leg on each corner. I’d help Peter buy and sell whatever we could get our hands on and we even sold horses to the police who surprisingly never enquired about their provenance We enjoyed selling to the police as they didn't haggle and were good payers.
However, things were soon to change and shortly after the end of the war my brother Peter was called up for his statutory two years national service with the Royal Army Veterinary Corps at Melton Mowbray. With Peter away I had to step up and work with my father, farming the 25 or so acres attached to The Villa and scratching together enough money to pay the annual rent of £100.
It was a concerning time for all and in the aftermath of the Second World War nobody knew whether hostilities would resume. In particular my father was on edge as he knew first-hand the horrors of warfare and still bore the scars after being gassed in the trenches of Ypres during World War I.
Peter would return after two years but the legacies of the war would be felt for a long time and rationing continued for a further nine years, making my father’s black-market bacon trade a thriving concern.
With my school days behind me I now had more time to trade and earn myself some money. I didn’t have to hide myself away when I skipped school and instead I was able to put my efforts into earning an income.
I needed a career and I decided to set my sights on becoming a horse trader like Peter. However, that said, I’d trade anything that I could get my hands on but given the choice it was horses I wanted to buy and sell.
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