FINDING MY WAY

As a young man I had lived a very conventional, even ordinary, existence. Born in Sanderstead in South Croydon on November 12, 1918, the day after the Armistice, with a father who had not been subjected to the horrors of trench warfare on account of being too old, having flat feet and working in what was a relatively 'reserved' occupation. He was a civil servant, and by all accounts quite a senior one, working in the Inland Revenue.

I was one of four, with two sisters and a younger brother. At the age of twelve I passed the school entrance exam for Whitgift Grammar, and was excited about going. My father, in his wisdom, decided instead to pack me off to his old boarding school, Bancroft's in Woodford Wells, where I was to spend a thoroughly miserable first few years. In fairness I don't think it was Bancroft's fault as such, but rather that I hated the whole idea of boarding schools at that time. It was ironic that my father, who I actually got on quite well with, decided to send me away, and that my brother, with whom my father struggled, was allowed to stay at Whitgift.

Bancroft's was typical of the period: masters ruled with an iron discipline, and we had our fair share of fagging (junior boys serving their seniors) and bullying. The buildings were of an imposing redbrick, designed by Arthur Blomfield, and the grounds of more than four acres were similarly impressive. The school was founded in 1737 following the death of its founder, Francis Bancroft, who left a large sum of money to the Worshipful Company of Drapers (which continues to act as a trustee for the school). Alumni included such exalted old boys as the famous geographer and geologist Sir Dudley Stamp; Sir Kenneth Peppiatt, the chief cashier of the Bank of England; Tommy Hampson who won a gold at the 1932 summer Olympics; and Lieutenant Colonel Augustus Newman who led the military forces as part of the famous St Nazaire raid and won the Victoria Cross as a result.

Later, perhaps, I would learn to understand the benefits of my school days, particularly having chosen a career in the services. The ability, for example, to get on with people in trying circumstances never left me.

My time at Bancroft's was relatively unremarkable. I played 1st XV rugby, and enjoyed 2nd XI cricket, but couldn't pretend to be very good at either. In terms of schoolwork, I did have a natural aptitude towards maths and the sciences, and even managed a distinction in physics. This was to be of significant help to me in later life.

My lack of serious academic promise, however, was of concern to my father. Perhaps because of this, and no doubt the practical consideration of saving on school fees, I was told that university was not an option and that I would leave without completing my second year in the sixth form. This meant I never had the opportunity of taking my Highers, or the chance of a scholarship that may – or may not – have been in my reach. And so, a little earlier than I had planned, I found myself considering my future.

One opportunity that appealed to me was the Post Office research laboratory at Dollis Hill (where they later got the first programmable electronic computer working); industrial chemistry was also attractive. Both stemmed from my inclination towards the sciences. Investigating further, however, a four-year stint at the Beckton gas works and concurrent evening classes to achieve a Bachelor of Science (BSc) degree was not appealing, and so – with an air of inevitability – I followed my father into the civil service.

My father, I should stress, did nothing to advance my career, but neither did he do anything to hamper it. The civil service at that time was highly regulated, and hierarchical, and having passed the requisite exam I found myself a part of the department of scientific and industrial research (DSIR). The DSIR administered premises such as the National Physical Laboratory in Teddington and various other major research establishments. I joined as a clerk, effectively to serve my apprenticeship.

Customs and Excise appealed to my sense of humour and involved a considerable amount of travel. As a young officer, my task was 'the protection of His Majesty's revenue' and to this end we had enormous powers, even to the extent of breaking down doors if we thought the revenue in danger. I remember clearly listening to the abdication speech of Edward VIII, and managed to watch the coronation procession of George VI first hand. As the new boy I had won two tickets to the event in the DSIR's 'draw'. I spent a most pleasant afternoon on the Embankment, watching the procession go by. I then took yet another exam on my own initiative to join HM Customs and Excise, the start of a most agreeable time.

One of my first 'postings' was to Birmingham Collection, where we unattached officers, as we were ranked, were in the charge of the eponymous Mr Smith who in keeping with all collectors – and all of my later AOCs – was god. I shared excellent digs in Moseley, owned by Mrs Prudence, a professional landlady who seemed, unofficially at least, to be part of the overall chain of command.

One of the main scams in my orbit at the time concerned Sportman's gin, a cheap alcohol from a local distillery in Langley Green near Wolverhampton. The gin was being transported in barrels to Blackpool, where it was then bottled, and sold, as Gordons. This was a common occurrence and kept us busy. There were plenty of unscrupulous landlords who were prepared to refill their optics with cheap product but still charge their customers full price.

The hours were not always sociable and when working at a bonded warehouse we took our lunch when we could. I recall one occasion taking some packed sandwiches along with me. The head porter asked if I would like something to go with them as he'd just opened a rather fine 'pipe' of port. He poured me a tumbler and I soon after fell asleep.

From Birmingham I was sent to Manchester, specifically to work on the import of tobacco at the Salford Docks. The accommodation this time was as awful as my first digs had been superb, and overlooked the local cemetery.

Working at the docks we were kept very busy, 'rummaging' (as it was called) on board ships for illegal goods. We would talk to the captains of the boats and look at the cargo manifests. Drugs were not popular in those days, but other potentially less lethal products still had real value. Imported sugar, for example, had a high duty on it to protect our own sugar beet industry in Lincolnshire. As a result, smuggled liquid saccharine – which was used by brewers and confectioners – became a desirable...