My digs in Ilford
I shared a tiny room in a flat with my friend Pete. It was so narrow that we had a single bed each side and there was a narrow gangway between. In that space we had a paraffin heater that was on constantly. It was one of those big round stove-like contraptions. We discovered that if we put a full kettle of water on top of the heater there was enough hot water left in it by morning to make two mugs of cocoa. That was breakfast sorted. We did not have to get up. We just reached, poured and drank.
The room was freezing. There was no such thing as central heating. At one end of our room were drafty French Windows. We blocked up all the cracks with newspaper but it was single glass and the heat disappeared through it like water through sand. The inside of those panes were coated with exceedingly pretty ice crystals. We heaped all our clothes on the bed for warmth. Looking back it is a wonder we did not suffocate.
At the other end of the room was a partition. The other side of which was Hans of the buzzsaw snore.
Pete collected harmoniums and had three piled up on top of each other against that wall. He also made musical instruments, light shows, and contraptions. He was an inventor. We had mandoyukes and ukolins, guitars and violins littered around.
We alleviated the gloom by putting posters up on the wall. These were on various social and environmental issues that took our fancy, cut out from magazines and collaged on sugar-paper.
I had my record player and a pile of albums that were communally played and not given the respect they deserved. I spent a lot of my grant on LPs from the second hand shops – there were a lot of Folkways albums in the old substantial cardboard covers appearing for a quid a go. A lot of my Hendrix, Traffic and Floyd, which seemed very popular, received a few too many scratches from that time.
Lipher, my pet rat, lived in, or rather on, her bird-cage. She would wander round the room and eat the soap if she could get at it.
We had a little sink with cold water.
It was a squalid, dingy, tiny, little room but did we have some times there! It rocked.
Ilford, that is where I was brought up. Where in Ilford, although it sounds awful and tough, looking back now happy memories.
I’m trying to remember the name of the road. I used to remember it before my brain packed up. We lived in two places. In our first year we secured digs with a couple of lesbians and in the second year we managed this room in a flat with Hans and Tony. They were both off the high street. I remember it as very drab but we had such a good time.
I think I just might have stayed on a little longer at that first address….
Now there’s a story!
It’s a small world!
You wouldn’t like it Anna. I believe it has some kind of rodent problem…
What Ilford has, Andrew. The area I lived in when I was small was mainly Irish and Catholic of course. I remember when I was young and it was the fifties when my mother would take me out shopping with her the women always wore hats and gloves, white gloves in summer. How times change, now some wear these stupid onesie (is that how you spell it) things.
Truth be told, I’m not too well versed in this area. But I’ll take your word for it.
So did my digs remind you of your hotel rooms Andrew?
The problems were all human. The rat was gorgeous.
Some staff rooms, yes certainly.
Rat fricassee, squeeze of lemon juice on the top, mmm, delicious.
You would have loved her. Everyone did. I used to take her out sitting on my shoulder peeking out through my hair. She was very friendly and affectionate.
I hope you are joking Andrew, I feel sick just reading that.
He’s joking. They don’t go with lemon!
Oops, you’re right – should be Honey-Mustard dressing, black cracked pepper.
I used to have two pet rats once – I called one Atat and the other Twoey. They were very nice. And none of your sauce!
Anna, wait till you get yourself down to Indonesia – some very interesting cuisine – if it breathes, eat it!
I think you’ll find that’s the same all over the world. They are stripping the wild-life off the planet!
Opher, it sounds as though you were around Ilford Station way, there used to be a lot of digs up there I remember, large houses. Small world is it not.
The name is on the tip of my tongue. It’ll come to me. I haven’t thought about it in a long while. We used to wander down to the High Street if we were flush. There were two Chinese takeaways who had price wars. We always got Chow Mein. It was cheap. Plain Chow Mein was two and six and chicken Chow Mein was three and six. It filled you up and made you fart.
That wasn’t actually chicken…
Empress Ave – That is what sprung into my mind . Familiar?
I bet it did
With rat in your hair, I fear I should have passed on the hair-care tips a tad earlier…
It’s OK – we didn’t have such modern conveniences as a shower in our tiny flat!
Ah well, that’s what rainy days are for. Rub down with an old sock. Sorted!
I don’t remember any rainy days back then. The sun always shone on us!
Yes I know the name. I lived off the High Street, brought up in Richmond Road, and then my parents bought a house in Meath Road, nearer to the Catholic Church/school St Peter and Paul’s, does that ring a bell.