David's Story E-Book

David Cox

• Herausgeber: Grosvenor House Publishing
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 266

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

David's Story is a personal reflection on the fascinating life of the author as seen through his eyes in his seventy seventh year. Most importantly, it is a story focusing on love gained, lost and then of love returning in more ways than one. From his working class beginnings in Bolton, the author's rebellious streak led to some interesting experiences. In this memoir, David reflects on his upbringing and family relationships during which time he lived in many different places, his life as a student at the London School of Economics LSE) and his political awakening, his friendships, an intense and long-lasting love affair, love later returning, his career as a social worker, his running marathons, his support for Nottingham Forest Football Club, his experiencing cancer, and his later life. During David's childhood the family lived in eighteen homes in England and as a result he attended half a dozen different schools. Despite all these changes he was still successful academically at school. When he was eighteen in 1967 he became a student at LSE, at a time when there was a major student revolt arising in considerable part as a response to the Vietnam War. He discusses also his early friendships and the beginning of his social work career in east London at a time when he was very inexperienced and unqualified. For him it was very much a question of 'sinking or swimming'. An intense love affair began during this period. It was to be as W.B Yeats described it as 'but a...dreamy, kind delight'. It was wonderful yet it was nearly to destroy both him and his girlfriend. It was to last on and off for many years. After the love affair ended he did not believe that he would ever marry...but then love was to return many years later in more ways than one after he met Parinya in Thailand. He was soon to marry her. He also describes how his career as a social worker continued in east London and later in inner city Nottingham involving difficult and stressful work. New friendships are also described. There are chapters as well about becoming a marathon runner and also his passion as a supporter of Nottingham Forest Football Club. At a later stage after working for a national charity for several years, and then travelling around the world, he returned to work in London as a manager of services for people with learning disabilities. Later in the book he describes his experience of Thai ways with Parinya. Then cancer threatened to cut short his life with his wife. He was subsequently to move with Parinya out of London to Banbury, Oxfordshire. The covid epidemic was subsequently to pose further threats. He then describes their recent life together. Love and friendship have sustained David and compelled him to reflect on his life with gratitude. I the final chapter of the book he offers reflections on our current society, the wider world, and his heroes and anti-heroes.

Leseprobe

For Parinya

CONTENTS

Dedication

Introduction

 1. Beginnings

 2. Traveller

 3. The Student

 4. Young Friendships

 5. The Political Activist

 6. The Social Worker

 7. The Young Lover

 8. The Football Supporter

 9. Later Friendships and Life Back in Nottingham

10. Running Marathons

11. The Manager

12. The Traveller Once More

13. A New Job and Love Returns

14. Marriage and Thai Ways

15. Retirement, A New House, then Illness

16. Bereavement

17. Saga

18. A Final Planned Move

19. The Covid-19 Pandemic

20. Life After Covid-19

21. Reflections on Love, Friendship, Society, Heroes/Anti-Heroes

Copyright

INTRODUCTION

There are many different tales to be told within David’s Story, but the most important tale is about young love, loss and, later, about love returning. The tales, I hope, have also something to say about innocence and experience, dreams and realities, our culture and the wider world.

The early tales are about my beginnings, the family and then travelling the length and breadth of England. We had lived in a dozen places by the time I was 18 years of age and I had attended six different schools. I think that probably the travelling as much as the family shaped what I was to become.

The next tale is about education, especially once I began its most important stage at the London School of Economics (LSE). It was at LSE in the late 1960s that I developed some of my values and my beliefs and learnt something about society and politics.

The fourth tale is concerned with young friendships. There were four of us together in the final year of school and at college. These friendships were to end for various reasons soon afterwards.

The fifth tale is about political beliefs and the possibility of radical change. Starting with the worldwide student revolt in 1968 and opposition to the Vietnam War, this phase was to continue in some respects throughout the 1970s.

The sixth tale is about social work, mainly childcare in the East End of London. Such a lot was experienced and there is so much to remember.

The seventh tale is about young love, ‘a brief, dreamy, kind delight’, as W. B. Yeats has described it. It was overwhelming and life-changing, but in many ways it was inevitably not to last.

The eighth tale is about football and watching Nottingham Forest in Europe and at home. It is the tale of supporting and following a small city club that won the First Division Championship and the European Cup twice while managed by Brian Clough.

The ninth tale is about being back in Nottingham, working in childcare and then with people with learning disabilities, and a friendship of two people with very different personalities that was to start in Nottingham and has continued for the rest of our lives.

The tenth tale is about getting fit, running marathons and half marathons.

The eleventh tale is about being a manager and learning something about the art of management and the necessary skills.

The twelfth tale is about travelling again, this time worldwide and in so doing discovering new places to enjoy and appreciate.

The thirteenth tale is about a new job, love returning in more ways than one and learning the most important lessons about love.

The fourteenth tale is about my marriage and discovering a new world.

The fifteenth tale is about retirement, experiencing cancer, vulnerability, being faced with possible death and yet recovering.

The sixteenth tale is about my parents again, bereavement, and trying to give meaning to it all.

The seventeenth tale is about Saga or getting older. It examines the early twenty-first-century years.

The eighteenth tale is about my last planned move and a new home out of London with many new experiences.

The nineteenth tale is about the Covid-19 pandemic.

The twentieth tale is about the recent years together with my partner.

Finally, in the last section, I offer a few reflections on my story and what has been important to me. As well as reflecting on love and friendship, I list some of my heroes and/or anti-heroes, and those people I continue to admire.

1. BEGINNINGS

My parents, who both came from Bolton, had met before the Second World War, but just like for so many young couples, everything changed when Hitler invaded Poland.

My father, Alfred, was a bright boy who, despite obtaining a scholarship to Manchester Grammar School, had to commence work instead in the 1930s to support his own father (who was unemployed), his mother and the rest of the family. There were altogether nine brothers and sisters, two of whom died in childhood. The family was very much working class, although my father was always proud to claim that one of his ancestors was George Stephenson of the Rocket steam engine fame. I have never discovered to this day whether it was true or not. I was in fact not close to most of my father’s family, although when my grandmother later married again, I recall liking her new husband Wilson. He once took me fishing on the River Trent when they came to visit. We had an enjoyable and relaxing day and caught a few fish. Our outing together made a significant impression on me. We also spent some time later with his sister Edith, especially on one occasion when we visited Cardiff where they lived to watch some of the Commonwealth Games in 1958. I would have been nine years old.

My father, before the Second World War, was a lay preacher and a supporter of Neville Chamberlain’s policy of appeasement regarding Nazi Germany. However, when the war started he was soon conscripted into the army, and after basic training was shipped to Singapore. Subsequently, with the surrender of the Singapore base and the allied armies to the Japanese after only eight days of battle in February 1942, he was then to spend the rest of the war as a prisoner working on the Death Railway in Thailand. In many ways, it was a miracle he survived, and he was to return to the UK after the war, emaciated and little more than a skeleton. He never really talked later to my sister and I about this experience, but my mother learnt a little about what happened. Suffice it to say that he was seriously ill at times with malaria to the extent that on one occasion the Japanese guards got him to dig his own grave. Fortunately, it was not required. He did return to England, however, with an abiding loathing of the Japanese and with a considerable antipathy to Australians, who had been his fellow prisoners. When he returned, he had also lost his religious faith and was never to be involved with a church again. Nor did he ever wish to return to Thailand.

After the war, he worked in local government in the local county treasurer’s department in Lancashire but studied at night school for his accountancy qualification. He passed all the exams and became a certified accountant. He was eventually to leave local government and work in the private sector for National Cash Register and other organisations involved in the beginnings of the computer industry.

Later in his life, as someone who believed in self-reliance and entrepreneurship, he also attempted twice to set up his own business. On each occasion, it failed after short periods, although I do not really understand what caused these failures. He seemed to get on well with many people but was rather an introverted man who did not easily express his feelings. I remember my mother saying it would have been better if he had stayed in the county treasurer’s department where he would have had much more secure employment! It was because of the many changes in his employment that we were to move so frequently in my childhood.

Regarding my parents’ aspirations, I was later to understand that my father was strongly motivated to better himself in terms of both an improved standard of living and a more middle-class status. At the same time, he would joke about my mother that ‘she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth’. It was not true, but it had been the case that my father’s family had been poorer.

My mother, Edna, was a state enrolled nurse at Winwick Infirmary when she met my father. Her family lived in a council house in Mackenzie Street, in Astley Bridge, Bolton. She was the second daughter in a family of five children. She would continue her nursing career on and off for many years after she got married, both in the public and later in the private sector. Her grandfather had at one time operated a small livery delivery business, but her father was now a driver for the local Co-operative Society. I liked my grandfather very much and I remember his warmth and sitting on his knees when I was young. I recall thinking much later that I had felt much closer to my grandfather than to my own father, even though I had only met him occasionally. I also liked my maternal grandmother, who was called Annie. She came across to me as kind and gentle. I was only much later to learn that her family had a skeleton in the cupboard. The oldest sibling Elsie had not been fathered by my grandfather. Annie had been pregnant by another man when my grandparents married. It had been kept a secret for many years. Unsurprisingly, Annie had taught her daughters when they were young, including my mother, to never trust a man!

My mother was very pretty with blonde hair. I can remember her telling me with some pleasure that a neighbour had once said of her that ‘if ever a film star walked down Mackenzie Street, it was you, Edna’. During the war, she cared for many injured soldiers, some of whom inevitably fell in love with her. However, she waited for my father to come home. She was compassionate and caring but had a nervous disposition.

My own first memory when we moved from a village called Belmont near Bolton, Lancashire (where my parents lived when I was born) to Wigan, not far away, was of a weekly bath in front of the coal fire in a tin tub. I could have been no more than three years old. Our home at that time in Wigan was a council house.

Other early memories include missing my mother very much when she was in hospital giving birth to my sister Elaine, but also at first not being sure it was her when she returned home. I think I was also angry with her that she had left me. My mother also told me that I feared the noise of the vacuum cleaner!

When I was four years old, we moved to another council house in St Helens near Liverpool. We were on top of a hill with a lot of wasteland in front of us where we could play. A lot of children played games there and I remember looking at this land with the children playing and imagining they were pirates coming to invade us. I also recall being with my father during warm weather when he built a new rock garden at the front of the house. I was fascinated by the way he built it, and all the interesting plants. Unfortunately, his commitment to gardening did not transfer to me and in my later life; I have had to rely on my partner to plan and look after our own garden!

My first primary school was in St Helens. In one lesson I recall receiving a gold star and having to go to see the headteacher to tell her. I was immensely proud. It seemed such a big school, but many years later I remember visiting it out of curiosity and realising just how small it was.

When I was only five years old, we moved to Whitley Bay on the coast, just north of Newcastle upon Tyne. It was very pleasant being by the seaside, but the winter was so much colder than in Lancashire and there was such a lot of snow. I was a bit scared, as the snow seemed to come up to the top of my legs. My second school was there in Whitley Bay and I hated it, as they made you eat all the school dinner, whatever it was. I remember having to stuff potatoes and vegetables into my trouser pocket and feeling sick when I was told that I must finish everything. The experience gave me an aversion to some vegetables, especially carrots and beetroot. The aversion has lasted all my life. It was a terrible way to treat children.

I also went to my first football match when I was in Newcastle. My father took me to St James’ Park and I stood on a box. I only recall the cheering when Newcastle came out on the pitch and the booing when the other side appeared. It was exciting, but I was a little scared at the same time. The early 1950s was a period when Newcastle United had an exciting and successful team. The same team is even now still waiting for the glory days to return, although they did have some success not too long ago with Kevin Keegan as manager, and they are currently playing well under Eddie Howe.

2. TRAVELLER

The family moved to Nottingham when I was still only five years old and my sister was two. By this stage, my father had bought an old Ford Anglia car and as we drove to Nottingham, my sister and I sang the words to ‘Robin Hood’:

‘Feared by the bad, loved by the good, Robin Hood, Robin Hood, Robin Hood…’

We initially moved into a private flat in an old building in a village called Burton Joyce, north of Nottingham, in a road called, strangely, Willow Wong.

During the period that we lived there at Willow Wong, I remember we had a problem with mice. Various traps were set and poison was laid down. I recall that one night when I was in bed, I woke up to a rustling next to it. I had left some chocolate on the bedside table and one of the mice had been helping himself to the treat. On another occasion, we had been talking to the two older children of the doctor who lived next door about Father Christmas. They had asked Elaine and I whether we believed in him, and we had said we did. They responded by telling us that there was a Father Christmas down every chimney. Understandably, we were very puzzled. After thinking about it, I began to understand. However, I suppose it was not nice of them to attempt to undermine our belief at such young ages. At least my sister, Elaine, was too young at the time to appreciate the real meaning of what they had said.

Although we lived in three separate places during the six years we were in Burton Joyce, I remember this period as being the happiest of my childhood. First, we moved to a semi-detached house located centrally and then my parents later bought a detached house on a new development at the end of the village. The places and area where we lived were very pleasant and we were only a short walk away from the River Trent. My father worked long hours with a company, as I mentioned above, called National Cash Register (NCR) so in some respects he was a distant figure. I felt closer to my mother. I remember that she had a long fur coat and looked very pretty in it. I used to smuggle up to her coat when she was wearing it, which made me feel good. I also recall the smell of her perfume. I was only later to discover that it was Chanel No. 5. My parents also soon had good friends in the village who had children as well, so it seemed at times that we had an extended family.

Sometimes we would go for a walk in Bluebell Wood together. As a small child when the bluebells were out in April and May, it seemed to be a special magical place. I still think of bluebell woods in the same way today. On other occasions, we would call in at a farm owned by a family my mother knew. I remember one time sitting in the front room of their house in front of a roaring fire with one piglet next to it, which they were trying to revive. The piglet was almost being roasted in the attempt to keep it alive. My mother said it was the runt of the litter.

On Sundays, we always went out for a drive, often in the summer, to Sherwood Forest or Matlock Bath. When we went to Sherwood Forest the four of us would play cricket together, although my mother often opted out. We visited the Major Oak in Ollerton as well. This huge ancient oak tree was hollowed out and you could hide inside it. The myth was that Robin Hood had hidden there. We usually had an enjoyable time in Sherwood Forest, although on one occasion I remember jumping by accident into a bunch of stinging nettles. It was not a very pleasant experience. On another occasion, we found a giant mushroom, picked it, and brought it home with us. We planted it again and were rather disappointed when it failed to grow and shrivelled up. We did not understand that we had destroyed its thread-like hyphae. On other trips to Matlock Bath, we would climb the local hills, including the Heights of Abraham, and maybe have a meal out. This Sunday drive was like a ritual. My father also sometimes took me to watch Nottingham Forest play football at the City Ground. I will always remember the Robin Hood theme tune being played as the team ran on to pitch before the game. From that time, for all my life, I have always supported Nottingham Forest (see Chapter 8). We would occasionally go to watch the cricket at Trent Bridge as well. I recall going to the Test Match when England were playing the West Indies and being able to see the three W’s: Worrell, Weekes, and Walcott batting. It was a lovely summer’s day.

Elaine and I also played various games together, especially cowboys and Indians. I was the cowboy, and, as my younger sister, she was the Indian. I remember Elaine being dressed in an Indian outfit. Unsurprisingly, it was usually the case that the cowboy won! I was given plenty of toys to play with during my childhood. I remember having a toy fort and lots of soldiers with uniforms in many colours. I spent considerable time arranging them and determining which ones would succeed in the battle. Later, I had Scalextric racing cars with a track. I would sometimes compete with my father. The racing cars provided much entertainment. I was to have a bicycle a few years afterwards.

My parents arranged for me to join the Cubs at this time as well and I was soon collecting proficiency badges. I recall that I got one for learning to use the phone in the red phone box. At that time, you had a system of A and B phone buttons, so it was more complicated than it is at present. I remember that we used to go down regularly to play games next to the banks of the River Trent. I recall running there once and tripping over, with my face falling into a large cowpat. I needed quite a lot of cleaning up! If you did well at Cubs, you could become a Seconder or, better still, a Sixer. You were appointed to these positions because you were considered as being able to lead a team. I did manage to become a Seconder but did not progress any further. When I was 11 years old, I could have joined the Scouts but decided against it partly, I think, because I did not want to be with the bigger boys. I was perhaps unaware of the various opportunities the Scout movement could offer. Of course, neither at that stage did I have any understanding at all of Baden Powell’s ideology as founder of the Scouts. Only when I was an adult did I become familiar with his racist and imperialist views.

All our parents’ friends’ children also went to the same primary school in the middle of the village. It was an old building with the usual design for the late Victorian or Edwardian periods. The toilets were at the other side of the playground. At this time, I recall getting on quite well at school and enjoying most of it. I did well with the schoolwork and remember as well playing British Bulldog in the playground, which could get quite physical at times as you tried to get from one end of the playground to the other without being tagged. I was also in the football team in my later years there, although on one occasion I was dropped, having been sent off previously for persistent fouling in a match against what I remember as bigger boys in nearby Carlton. This was a disappointment to my father, who was a volunteer assistant coach for the team! It may have been partly due to this incident that my headmaster’s report on leaving the school after I passed the eleven plus said that I was bright but needed to develop ‘more of a sense of humour’! I was a serious child.

In the last year at my primary school, I had my first foreign trip to Belgium. The school arranged a short holiday to Knokke on the Belgian coast. I remember being on the beach and looking out to sea across the English Channel in the direction of England. We also visited Ostend and spent time viewing the casino. I can recall as well eating waffles, which I thought to be delicious. I was not homesick, but it was good to get back home after the trip.

Reflecting on my childhood in later life, it is clear to me that there was little emotional expression in our family, except for the nervousness of my mother. My father’s emotions were rarely apparent and although he communicated to us about everyday matters, it was not possible to feel close to him, or indeed to feel his love for us. I do not doubt that he loved us, but there was rarely any emotional communication. However, I do remember one time when he came home drunk after work and there was an argument between my father and my mother while I was in bed, as was my sister. It was one of the few occasions in my childhood when my father was not really in control. My mother was really upset. By comparison, she was more able to express feelings and I felt closer to her. But such communication was hindered by her nervousness and her subservience to my father, who very much made all the major decisions. Nevertheless, it was always clear to me how much she loved and doted on me. Throughout our childhood, she always seemed closer to me than to my sister. I do remember enjoying different activities with my mother, such as walks, visiting friends and preparing food in the kitchen, with which Elaine was also involved. We always enjoyed licking the left-over dough in the bowl when cakes were made. My mother excelled in making cakes and she also regularly made a few special dishes, including Lancashire hotpot.

I would add that looking back I think there was limited humour in our house. We were quite a serious family. To the extent that there was humour, it was often led by my father, who would tease my mother about all sorts of things, but especially her allegedly more prosperous childhood.

Although I passed the eleven plus, I was told that in the three tests I had done, my marks were lower in my later tests, I think somewhat to the surprise of my teachers. Afterwards, when I went (as it turned out briefly) to Carlton-le-Willows Grammar School, I was not therefore in the highest stream. However, in most academic disciplines I was still top of my class but certainly far from being top across all the streams for the students in that year. In addition, in the non-academic subjects, such as art and woodwork, I was nearly always bottom of the class! I remember in a school report the woodwork teacher stating that ‘he tries hard’ and then giving me an E grade. I was also not so good at languages, including the English language lessons. This would result in some problems for me in later years after I got to university. The school played rugby and, owing to my small stature, I was chosen unsurprisingly for the scrum half position. I was to play several matches for the school.

After only two terms at my grammar school, the family moved again to a small village called Cropston, near Loughborough, in Leicestershire. It was a very pleasant village surrounded by rolling countryside. I soon had some friends and as I had acquired a bike, we would often cycle to nearby villages. My closest friend was called Peter.

I remember at about 13 years old being attracted to a girl called Linda and buying her some chocolates, but unfortunately for me, she was not interested in becoming my first girlfriend. I was very disappointed.

The family had a lovely collie dog during this period, which looked like Lassie and was called Kim, although his tail had been damaged, possibly in an accident. We had acquired him from a pet shop after a Labrador puppy my father bought for the family had died (after just three days). The collie had been bought as a replacement to help us recover from the upset. Elaine and I had the task of taking him for walks. Unfortunately, we were not as diligent as we should have been and were sometimes told off by our mother for not exercising him enough. Sometimes we took him on holiday with us. I remember us being with him in Sheringham, Norfolk, and having a lot of fun on top of some old air raid shelters until Kim jumped off a high one and nearly did himself serious damage. Fortunately, he was not injured and was soon up and running again. Much later, my mother was to sell the dog without telling us, as she still thought that no one had been taking him for sufficient walks. She was also to sell my sister’s rabbit, again without informing us, on the grounds that she was not cleaning the cage enough.

During my childhood, we would usually have annual holidays by the seaside. In fact, we went to many seaside resorts across England and Wales, usually staying in Bed and Breakfast places. I can recall staying in some very odd places, including one house on the South Coast that seemed still to be furnished as it might have been in the Victorian era with a pot in which to relieve yourself under each bed. My father was keen to explore places. Additionally, on two occasions we stayed at holiday camps in Devon and at Prestatyn in North Wales. As a family, we enjoyed all these trips, although I can also remember that it always appeared to rain on our trips to Wales. It was when we were at a holiday camp there and still very young that we attended a fancy-dress evening and I was cast in the role of King Farouk, the corrupt and dissolute ex-King of Egypt. My father also played in a game of cricket. I remember him going out to bat and then being out first ball. It was a bit embarrassing for him.

Occasionally, we would visit members of my mother’s family in Lancashire, especially her youngest sister, who was called Anne, and her husband, Don. They had a young son. I liked Anne and Don, who were both warm to me, and I recall that people in their village in Lancashire seemed more friendly than people where we lived. I also remember going out with them and flying a kite on the moors. The experience made a significant impression on me.

I attended a new school called Loughborough College School and continued to do quite well studying there. After a while, I also developed a new circle of friends. I recall early on in my second year, when I was sitting in the far corner desk in a maths lesson, having chalk thrown at me by the teacher because apparently I had not been concentrating. It was a bit of a shock. After all, I was only in the far corner because I had come top in the previous maths exam, and we were all positioned in the classroom according to how well we had done. Those who had come bottom or near bottom were in the front row. I also remember being punished during a gym lesson when the teacher hit me on my bottom with the end of one of the ropes. I do not recall what I was supposed to have done to deserve such treatment. This incident was the only time I was to be physically punished in my school career. Although punishment was often administered in the schools I attended, I was never to receive the cane.

Unlike Carlton-le-Willows, where I had played rugby for a while as scrum half, there was more football at Loughborough College School. I played the game sometimes but had no special talent for it. I only grew to five foot five inches, which did not help especially when tackling. However, it was in the academic subjects rather than at sport that I did well, winning several annual prizes, although I was still not in the top stream. My favourite subject was history. I remember doing a history exam in my third year when the instruction was to answer five out of the nine questions. Unfortunately, I misread this text and answered with some difficulty all nine questions in the time allotted. Therefore, they only counted my marks for the first five questions answered. But I still managed to get the top marks overall in the exam! However, I think it taught me an important lesson about reading exam instructions carefully!

The school had a boarding wing that specialised in admitting children whose parent(s) were in the armed forces. The headmaster was a huge man with a booming voice, but his wife was only tiny. They struck me as an odd pair.

I also remember in my third year running a cross-country race for third and fourth-year students and, as I did not know the course, falling from an overhanging cliff into a stream. I was soaked. There was a crowd watching and I was very embarrassed. Despite this mishap, to my surprise, (as I had done no training), I finished ninth overall, which was the best result for third year students. I had something of a pigeon chest, which my PE teacher for some reason felt was a good asset for long-distance running. However, it would be a long time in the future that I would start running again and finish undertaking some marathons.

It was also around that time that international politics and the Cold War interfered with my schooling. It was 1962 and the Cuban missile crisis. I did not really know what was going on, except that the adults considered it to be serious and that it was something to do with nuclear weapons. In the early afternoon, we were sent home to our parents in case nuclear war broke out. The crisis passed, as Khrushchev, the Soviet leader, backed down after Kennedy’s ultimatum to remove the Soviet missiles in Cuba. We went back to school the next day.